#I would look up panels to support some of this but I chickened out

[genericpuff]

On today's episode of "Rachel exaggerates things to make herself sound cooler-"

Soooo this is a lie.

No seriously, this has to be a lie. I don't make these kinds of accusations willy-nilly. This has to be a lie.

First of all, if her file sizes are truly 11GB for each episode, that would mean her file resolutions would have to be stupid high, and I just ain't buying that when so much of her art comes out looking like fried chicken.

But again, look at the backgrounds. Crystal clear. Which supports my theory that Rachel has her assistants draw the characters flat and exports them as PNG's so that she (or another one of her assistants) can slap the backgrounds in afterwards which is why when they pinch and zoom, the backgrounds look fine (as they're added in afterwards) and the characters look like they've been drawn with chalk. The shading itself isn't deep fried though, which is, again, because Rachel adds in the shading in post after her assistants have sent her all the flats.

Anyways, moving on from that, if her file sizes are actually 11GB per episode, that would mean her resolution would have to be STUPID high and that would mean there's no excuse for panels to look like this. This is not a Webtoons compression problem, Webtoons does compress images for you if you don't do it yourself but they don't result in specifically deep fried textures like this, that's ALL happening on Rachel's side. If it were a Webtoons' problem, the entire comic would look like that, not just select panels.

This is also what the panels tend to look like in book form. The book art is clearly very compressed and blurred from being too low of a resolution for print, which means either the editor is not being provided the root files, or the root files weren't ever that crisp to begin with. Either one is plausible and either one isn't good.

But of course, I'm not going to make these claims without my own proof. So here's the file sizes for Episode 12 of Rekindled, the longest episode in the series so far by panel count and page length, clocking in at 42 panels and an average of 25 layers per page (and that's including the text layers which adds a good chunk on its own, the actual art layers are like, half of that).

Also, here's what a pinch and zoom panel in Rekindled comes out looking like:

You can still pick up on some fuzziness, but the lineart doesn't look straight up chunky like it does in LO.

Meanwhile, one of my longest episodes of TIME GATE: [AFTERBIRTH] has a file size that honestly shocked me with how small it was.

Guess how many panels that episode had?

Go on, guess. Take a second. Compare it to the file size of Episode 12 of Rekindled, take your best educated guess. Time Gate: [AFTERBIRTH] is also a full color webtoon with full shading and rendering that I used to upload once a week. Go ahead, I'll wait.

Ninety-seven.

Ninety. Seven.

Not only is that more panels than what LO dishes out on a weekly basis, but its overall file size doesn't even come out to be 10% of what Rachel is claiming LO's file sizes to be.

This is what Time Gate: [AFTERBIRTH] looks like, by the way:

(don't mind the blurriness that's working against my point, that's Tumblr, not me LMAO)

But, let's face it, I didn't want to just use my own examples as a comparison, because that seems unfair. I'm not an Originals creator, I just put myself under similar pressures as one because I'm an idiot who tries too hard.

So I asked one of my Originals pals. I will not disclose their name, but they are someone who works for Webtoons Originals and has similar panel requirements and deadlines. They also work with a similar flatting + shade workflow as LO, they have cel-shaded colors and bold flat coloring.

When I asked them how big their file sizes were, they said that at 2500px width - similar to what I draw at, 2400px width - and 200-300k pixel length (again, they're drawing an entire episode on one canvas) their episode file sizes come out to roughly one gigabyte, very rarely much bigger than that.

Rachel is full of shit. This is some Tommy Tallarico level shit, exaggerating stupid things that don't matter to try and make herself seem impressive. It isn't impressive. It makes her look like an unorganized dunderhead at best, and at worst, makes her look like a flat out liar who needs to prop herself up on the dumbest shit to make herself look good. File gigabyte size isn't impressive or indicative of anything, you can achieve high quality art without your file size amounting to 11 GB, and let's face it, Lore Olympus is not high quality art. You're telling me art like this:

amounts to 11 GB?

Now the only way I can see this happening is if maybe, maybe she had like, a bajillion layers full of garbage-

Oh. Oh no. Lore Olympus. Is a sprite comic.*

(*edit for clarification: I've had people confused over what I mean by sprite comic because LO clearly isn't made with 16/8 bit sprites. Sprite comic was a term universally used back in the day for comics that reused the same body parts, heads, expressions, etc. much like how sprites are designed, often keeping an entire file full of different layers made up of these assets to make for easier development. This technique was utilized in comics like CTRL + ALT + DEL. LO is definitely not literally a sprite comic but the way its layers are designed feel very much like something that's being cobbled together like 'sprite' comics were. I'm old.)

Even with these pics for proof, with 600+ layers on one canvas, if there's barely anything on those layers, then it still wouldn't make up that 11GB file size because the amount of layers doesn't necessarily add to file size on its own, at least not by that much, unless they're actually filled with stuff. And again, Rachel's art in LO doesn't scream "highly detailed with many layers". It only had many layers because for some reason she insists on working that way even to its own detriment.

From the looks of it, Rachel's importing all of her assistants' PNG's as separate layers and adding all the shading and the extra details on their own separate layers and basically dividing everything up into tiny bite sized pieces. That's the only clear explanation I can come up with. But if so, that means she's being INCREDIBLY inefficient with her workflow that it's amounting to SIX HUNDRED+ LAYERS AT 11 GB PER EPISODE. THAT IS ABSURD. THIS COMIC IS WAY TOO LOW QUALITY TO JUSTIFY THESE FILE SIZES AND LAYER COUNTS. RACHEL DOESN'T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK SHE'S DOING-

She's also very clearly using the cloud as a way to backup her work and work with her assistants. God knows how much she's spending on cloud space because of her own incompetency.

Honestly, at this point, as I sit here playing the Photoshop equivalent of Cookie Clicker, clicking the 'new layer' button over and over and over again with my mouse to truly understand what it would feel like to operate at 600+ layers per episode of a webtoon, I'm more inclined to believe she's just lying. Capping. Pulling shit out of her ass. Straight up making shit up. It wouldn't be the first time she's done that. But also because the alternative is a lot more grim - the #1 best selling webtoon on the platform is being operated like the world's worst group project and still coming out on the other side looking like deep fried garbage despite its stupid high file size.

#hoo boy i wasn't expecting to write an essay today #but i got tagged in this discussion in ULO #my 10+ years of being a deadbeat washed up webcomic creator with zero street cred finally pay off #lore olympus critical #lo critical #antiloreolympus #anti lore olympus

[i05wook]

lean on me - park sunghoon

pairing: bff! sunghoon x gn! reader (ft. dreamies)

genre: fluff, slight angst

summary: you and Sunghoon were inseparable as kids and teens, however life happens and you lose contact with each other but life brings you both back together.

wc: 524 words

author’s notes: Here is my submission for the @kflixnet exchange event!! For the event my partner was @redm4ri . Thank you so much to @kflixnet for hosting this event.

Growing up, you and Sunghoon were practically inseparable. Despite your different interests, you always found ways to spend time together, whether it was going to each other's practices or just hanging out at each other's houses. You would spend hours playing in Sunghoon's treehouse or having water fights in your backyard paddling pool.

Your parents even converted one of the fence panels between your yards into a doorway, so you could easily switch between each other's gardens whenever you wanted. Summers were spent camping in one of your backyards, building campfires and making s'mores.

As you both grew older, your paths diverged. Sunghoon focused on his figure skating and eventually joined an agency to become an idol. Meanwhile, you sustained an injury that prevented you from continuing with swimming, and you discovered a passion for fashion design during your recovery.

But when the pandemic hit, Sunghoon suddenly disappeared without a trace. You were worried sick and couldn't get in touch with him, until you saw a post on Instagram mentioning "I-Land" and featuring a picture of Sunghoon's face.

Of course, you had to support your best friend on this new survival show, seeing how much he had improved warmed your heart, especially when he finally made the final line up, and was one more step closer to his dreams. Now it was time for you to take a leap towards yours, just like he had.

You began applying for stylist jobs at different idol agencies, hoping that you could spend some time styling idols whilst studying fashion design at college, and beginning to create your own fashion runway collection one day.

After a couple of weeks searching for jobs, you finally received an offer from the one and only SM entertainment, styling for NCT Dream. Of course, you had to accept the job, it was one step closer to your dream.

However, it seemed as if you had underestimated just how stressful it was sometimes styling an idol group, with all the award shows and comebacks, particularly with a group like NCT Dream, who seemed to never stop.

It was at the 2022 Genie Music Awards, when you were running around like a headless chicken looking for the rest of the NCT Dream boys, having already styled Renjun, Jeno, and Haechan, the rest missing somewhere in the backstage area.

That was until you ran head first into a person, but it wasnt any random person.

It was Park Sunghoon.

However, you didn’t have much time to chat and catch up, due to trying to find the rest of the dreamies. That was however until Sunghoon, grabbed hold of your wrist, and placed a piece of paper in it.

When you finally got back to the dressing rooms, with rest of the boys, you sat down and looked at the paper Sunghoon had handed to you. It warmed your heart what Sunghoon had wrote on the piece of paper…

“no matter how far apart we are, you will always have me to lean on if it gets too much and i will be there for you, you not have to go through anything alone. okay?”

requests: open

taglist: @bambisgirl @enhacolor @acaiasahi @duolingofanaccount

#kflixnet #୨⎯ “enhypen” ⎯୧ #୨⎯ “park sunghoon” ⎯୧ #୨⎯ “sunghoon” ⎯୧ #sunghoon x reader #reader x sunghoon #sunghoon drabbles #enhypen drabbles #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon angst #୨⎯ “enhypen fluff” ⎯୧ #୨⎯ “enhypen angst” ⎯୧ #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #୨⎯ “bobariki” ⎯୧

[somediyprojects]

Lavender and Lace: Enchanted Alphabet conversion by Frank Jordan. Pattern designed by Marilyn Leavitt-Imblum.

Completed - a Halloween conversion of Enchanted Alphabet.

Cross Eyed Cricket - Sleepy Hollow

There were so many elements I love about this large panel piece, but I only had room for one element- the moon. This pattern is available to purchase from several retailers, but not as a digital download.

Owl Forest Embroidery -100 Owls

This is (amazingly) a free download of a sampler made of (you guessed it) 100 Owls. Really fantastic- it was hard to choose- but many of them would have been too big or too small - I like this one - I just needed to make the D wider to accommodate the footprint.

The Witchy Stitcher

I have been a massive fan of Meg Black, otherwise known as the Witchy Stitcher, for a number of years. She is a Canadian artist with an extensive catalog of spooky and funny patterns available to purchase and download, and hosts excellent stitch alongs. She is also active on Patreon, and one of the patterns I used (Pumpkin Krampus) is (I think) a Patreon exclusive. I knew I wanted to use my stash of WS patterns in this project, but little did I know I would end up purchasing several more to get the elements I wanted. Meg was also very supportive through her Facebook group. I can't recommend her enough to anyone who loves Halloween and Cross Stitch!

Leshy - Guardian of the Woods

This was one of the three WS patterns I knew I had to use in the sampler. I used the main figure, a modified and extended border (boy was that a pain to stitch - I decided I wanted some sparkle and used Etoile DMC for the black and white. It does look good but that was a very long border!), and the bird, converted to black and grey with red eyes.

Batty for You - Valloween

The second pattern I KNEW i wanted.

Baba Yaga

Another MUST HAVE. This is the pattern I had to modify the most from the original to get to fit. Those chicken legs are about half length, and sadly I had to lose the smoke coming from the chimney- despite several attempts to fit it in. I also used the cauldron and mounted skulls as a separate element.

Antisocial Bat

I knew I wanted to highlight the letters D (for my partner Danny), F (for me), and P (for our feline companion Pangur) Danny got the owl (above), I got the bat, and I designed my own version of Pangur.

Pumpkin Krampus

This was a Patreon exclusive. The Witchy Stitcher Patreon benefits are great - and this pattern was perfectly timed. I really wanted to include some version of a goat (my partner is a big fan of The VVitch). There are a couple of fantastic versions of goats on the Witchy Stitcher site, but I just couldn't get them to fit- just as I was giving up- this mini pattern dropped. It is not a goat, but it does give those vibes and I love it in the sampler.

Queen of Halloween

I wanted to do something special as a "signature" for this sampler. I knew I wanted this pattern but it would be much too large. I decided to take the plunge and stitch 1 over 1 - while I was cursing this decision halfway through stitching, I really like it. The text below is of my own design. I made great progress in 2021 and fully expected to finish that year, but life happens- didn't have the heart to go back and frog the stitching,so I guess I will have to live with the deception - I finished in 2023.

Creepy Crafter

Mini Samhain (Free Download) 

The Witchy Stitcher provides several fun, small, free downloads on her site. This is one of them.

When Witches Go Riding

All Treats No Tricks

The very last element I added. I think it provides a lovely pop of colour. I did modify the colours and only used the head of one of the trick or treaters. A charming pattern I may end up doing on its on.

A note on bats

There are 15 bats on the sampler, drawn from a number of WS patterns.

IN CLOSING

When I started this project, I had no idea it would take two years to complete. There are many nicer patterns out there than this mash up of a sampler (in fact any one of the ones I have used on their own would be more attractive) but I am proud of this project and look forward to seeing it every Halloween. Thank you to the Witchy Stitcher and the other designers - you make this hobby such a rewarding and fun experience.

And thank you especially to the late Marilyn Leavitt-Imblum. She deserves a place in the cross stitch hall of fame (if such a thing existed) - a true artist with a special vision for textile arts.

#cross stitch #inspo #x #lavender and lace #marilyn leavitt imblum #conversion #halloween

[shamelessnerd]

I just want to say the following headcanon thing LEGITIMATELY was inspired by this thing I saw on a random Google search I don’t even know how it was there, Google is watching me. I typed it all out in a caffeine-fueled frenzy. If you know who made this pic/headcanon thing, let me know so I can give credit. This is the offender:

OKAY SO I NEED TO ADD TO THIS THING ABOUT HOW JASON WAS DIANA'S FAVORITE ROBIN. I NEED TO ADD TO THIS, AND IT'S GONNA BE REALLY FAN-DORK-TASTIC AND IT'S FINE, EVERYTHING IS FINE.

We need to examine this more. Brace yourself for the headcanon feels train. Choo choo, bitches.

I don't think Jason just adored and was respectful to her, no no, he fucking worshiped her. When every Robin has met the others of the Trinity it's always said something about them. When Jason met Superman, he was appropriately awed and flustered, you know, as boys do. It's Superman for shits sake, he's like a myth. How do you talk to a mythical freakin' god?

But Diana? Now she's a bit different. Sure, she flies, she's fast, she's got super strength and sword skills no one can touch, but she doesn't shoot lasers from her eyes or sneeze and make a tornado. She talks to kids, she treats them with respect, as equals. Jason likes that. He grew up fast. He hates being talked down to.

But this really didn't start with Diana being his favorite just because she doesn't ruffle his hair and ask if his studies are going well. No, this goes back to long before he was a Robin. When he was just a little kid with an abusive father and a mother that loved him but couldn't fight back.

Jason has always been a tootin' masculine character. Look at him, he's got all the traits, up and down. Bad boy look, check. Guns, check. Fast cars, check. Street rat punk, check. He's the tallest out of the Robins, and so much goddamn muscle he's got fifteen pounds on Bruce. (Suck it, old man.) There's memes about his thighs ffs. But on the same token he's always related to and sympathizes more with women than any other Robin. Why would that be?

Because his mother loved him. Really, deeply, adoringly loved him, even if he was adopted. She probably always wanted kids and a family but she just chose the wrong man to do it with. Things probably weren't always so bad, they never are when you start out but it got worse steadily, it snuck up on her and by the time Jason was five, she was a convenient punching bag whenever Willis Todd had a bad day at work.

It didn't take long before every day was a bad day at work.

So Jason grew up in a place that started out as pretty nice, they were poor as hell but he never lacked for love from his mom. She made games for him so he wasn't afraid. Charity clothes weren't shameful, they were adventuring gear and he could be anything he wanted, even a wizard or a ninja. She didn't eat her portion of dinner because a spell had been put on her and the only way to break it is if he ate everything instead, and then defeat the dragon guarding her and give her a kiss before bedtime. Then she would eat. When they couldn't pay the utility bills, the candles were the only light they had and they were adventurers exploring ancient caves and had to be very careful to sneak around and find the magic stones she'd hidden everywhere.

Catherine Todd loved her little boy and always sacrificed whatever she could to make sure he wasn't afraid at night. While he slept, she'd cry very quietly.

But no amount of pretend and stories could really hide the fear in her eyes when his father came home. Jason had to hide under the table his arm the around a street mutt, Sparky, and a phone clutched to his chest while his mom tried to hold back her screams as the leather belt, then the fists and the boots came down on her again and again.

His mother ALWAYS took the beatings from him. When Jason was getting a little older and taller and starting to outgrow his clothes faster than they could steal or trade from the charity banks, he started looking like a target. But she never allowed his father to beat him, she wouldn't have it. She made a deal, she'd take the beatings and he wouldn't touch Jason dammit, not him, not her little boy.

Afterwards, when his scumbag father sat down in front of the TV with a beer and some food while his wife cried on the floor, Jason would crawl out of his hiding place and put band-aids on the cuts and bruises. Then she'd hold him in her arms, sobbing, and tell him it's okay, she loves him and she'd never let anything bad happen to him.

But things always got worse for Jason. He loathed his father, he felt furious he couldn't fight back but he knew if he did, his mother's sacrifice would be for nothing. He learned to control his rage early, he had to. But that doesn't mean it didn't burn.

The look of defeat and apathy in her eyes is what hurt him most. He wished she wouldn't just lay down and take it all the time. He wanted her to get up. Fight back. He'd have these dreams where his mom beat down her husband and told him if he ever touched her or her son again, she'd kill him. But he always woke up.

Catherine Todd was Jason's first real hero. Even when she started taking heroin to get through the day, to not feel hunger and not feel pain.

And then there's Wonder Woman. Princess of Themyscira. Amazon Warrior. She was the best fighter in the world and she fought with a grace like poetry and a savagery like vengeance. She was amazing. A woman that was strong enough to throw monsters through walls. Monsters just like his father. He wanted his mom to be more like Wonder Woman.

He wanted Wonder Woman to be his mom.

Now lets fast forward a bit. When his father abandoned them, Jason became the man of the house and his mother was so deep into addiction she could barely function. She'd lost so much weight over the years, pushing her food onto his plate. She'd always cared for and protected him, now he could finally return the favor. He was an 11-year old with a baseball bat and zero tolerance for any assholes that wanted to hurt his mom. She couldn't fight anymore but he could. Any drug dealer stopping by learned that the hard way.

But he couldn't protect her forever. The will had been beaten out of her for over a decade. While he was out stealing food, she overdosed. The pain had been too much. He failed her.

Fast forward again. He's Robin now, he's learned to survive on his own before now, he's not shy about sticking up for himself because dammit, he's not going to sit on the sidelines ever again. That was a helpless feeling he never could get away from. He meets Wonder Woman for the first time and he's just struck dumb. Alfred and Bruce are amused, because this Robin has never held back what's on his mind or given any ground. But after he gets over the awe of meeting his childhood idol (nevermind the fact that he's still technically a kid) he can't stop talking to Diana. He chatters eagerly to her.

Soon it's clear he's something of a fanboy. He asks how she threw this punch from this battle and how she disarmed that villain in that fight. She's more than happy to show him. Then he asks other things, like if she can be such a great fighter, other women can too, right? What if the best way to defeat crime is by preventing it? Like giving women and other common targets of criminals the ability to defend themselves. Couldn't women and children's shelters offer training and classes for free? She loves the idea and promises to see what she can do.

Jason probably writes letters to Diana whenever he can and she responds when she has time. It's not often because they're both so busy, but it's a slow sort of pen-pal thing they have going on. She's easier to talk to than Bruce and learns more about his family from before.

Even though he loved his mom, he also resented her. She let herself become a victim and he'll never quite forgive her for that. He's bitter about it, the idea of 'What if she'd fought back?' always in the back of his head. He'll never know and it's her fault and he misses her but he misses what they might have had. One day he accidentally lets this slip in one of his letters and Diana sends him two pages back, all of it laying out that a mother's love thinks nothing of sacrifice and it's okay for him to be angry but he shouldn't let it taint the good memories he has. He was loved right up until the end. Instead of being angry, be inspired. It wasn't fair, to her or to him, but he can still make his mother proud by making sure no one else has to go through what he did.

How would she know his mother is proud of him? Because Diana is proud of him. Very proud. And she knows what mothers want for their children.

Had she not been off-planet at the time, Diana would've noticed the lack of his letters when he started feeling displaced and needed family to connect to. When he found out he was adopted. When he left to go search for his real mother -- maybe a mother more like Wonder Woman.

When Jason died and Diana found out several weeks later, she was furious with Bruce. Absolutely. Livid. She refused to work with him or speak to him for a month. It was a major cramp in their relationship, as friends and as colleagues. 

She did go home and cry in her mother's arms because he was such a fine boy, dammit. Man's World was cruel and savage and did the worst things to the most innocent people and it turned them into beasts. It broke their hearts and twisted their minds. But not Jason. He came out stronger and more determined than ever to be better. Yes, he was lost and hurt and didn't know where to direct his righteous anger but he was learning so fast and she was so proud of him for it. Crime wasn't a vague thing to him, he grew up in it, lived in it, and he knew exactly why it should be put down. Just like she knew the stakes of war and why it must be fought. He was a warrior. And he died because he was still a kid that wanted a mother who loved him.

She blames herself a little because if she'd been there more for him, given him the mom he really really wanted, he might still be alive. She neglected him, just like everyone else and she will never forgive herself for that.

When Jason came back as the Red Hood, she'd only heard vague rumors from Gotham. It was years before she found out who it was and that's only because Dick was struggling with a guilty conscience for putting 'Jason' into Arkham Asylum. When this 'Red Hood' turned out to be the young Robin who had her action figure and always ran to say hello to her, she gave Dick a look that could kill a chimera. For the first time, he realized why Bruce could fear her so much.

She sat down and started to write a letter to Jason but didn't know where to start.

It hasn't happened yet. She's often run ragged with all her duties, and she hasn't figured out how to tell Bruce she wants to see Jason for reasons too many and complicated to put into words without seeming rude to the other fine boys he's mentored.

But when she does finally meet her favorite Robin she'll hug him and not let go for a long time. Then they'll spend the whole night talking about everything, and for tonight, crime and missions and duty can wait. She'll tell him about the countless women that have fended off their abusers because of the ideas he came up with so many years ago. And he'll be confused at first because doesn't she know he's insane? A killer? A psychopath? Well, she's killed too and she knows why he's doing what he's doing. There are as many battlefields as there are battles, in the mind, in the streets, in the long history of a life. She knows that this is his battle. She's proud of him for fighting what he believes in because that's what he's always done. His methods may not be her own but that's okay. Life has given him the tools and insight to do what he does and she must respect that. War is never pretty.

For a while, Jason is so damn unbalanced by all this, he can't really speak because there's a knot in his throat.

Then she drops another bomb on him by apologizing. For not being there for him, for not realizing that he needed more than a pen pal and for neglecting to tell him all these things before it was too late. There's tears in her eyes and he starts to panic a little.

The next day, she gets a letter from Jason.

So there. There you have it you ugly heathens, feels headcanon train! I think this is why Diana has Jason as her favorite Robin and why he has always looked up to her. I think the fandom somehow recognizes the neat and fitting parallels here. Maybe not ever put down in words like this (or if it has been, I haven't found it yet) but definitely there in the back of the brain. You don't see fanart with Jason wearing a Wonder Woman shirt, or pajamas, or coffee mug for no reason. It's not just because it's funny that the bad boy punk of the BatFamily is a huge Wonder Woman fan. It's because she means something to him that the other Robins never needed in their lives like he did. She was a role model early in his life and still is today. 

Jason likes Wonder Woman because she's overcome and proven herself in a world stacked against her. Women can't fight? Wrong. Women can't be strong? So wrong. Women can't hold important positions in government? She's an ambassador. Women must be sexual, they must defer to their male compatriots, if they do fight they're butch and can't be feminine and beautiful, and if they don't fight they have to stand back and sit in the kitchen.... You might wanna shut up now.

Wonder Woman has defied every single unwritten rule the world tried to put on her and she's broken every single barrier that her 'superiors' have put in front of her. She gives society's expectations an amused little smirk before she breaks them in half. She doesn't let anyone define her. She does what is needed and she doesn't apologize for it. She's a rebel like that. She's powerful but feminine, she's a warrior but also motherly, she fights for peace, but she will fucking kill to protect her loved ones.

Diana's story and Jason's story are so much alike and that is why these two have this unspoken, undefined bond. They know the gritty realities, they know that ideals won’t stop hunger and abuse and exploitation, they know fire sometimes can only be fought with fire. I think the fandom understands that, even vaguely. They recognize she would naturally be his #1 role model. And it would genuinely put me on cloud 9 if DC recognized that too and decided, 'Know what? Let's go for it. Let's make this happen.'

'Let's make this impossible and bizarre idea seem wonderfully human.'

Isn't that what comics are really about?

#headcanon #feels train #Red Hood #Jason Todd #Wonder Woman #Diana of Themyscira #did not expect this to go all out #I would look up panels to support some of this but I chickened out

[pappydaddy]

Terror at Starcout Mall ii (r.b./s.h.)

a/n: the second part of this supposed to be one fic turned into a whole series! i tried to focus mostly on the reader's conflict of being confronted with russians who fit the "evil russian" stereotype. therefore, i wish to reiterate that this fic deals with a lot of stereotypes and prejudice. reader discretion is advised. after this part, it does stray away from the focus of the russian heritage of the reader due to the events of the season ramping up.

anywho, i hope you lovelies like the second part to this series!

tv show/movie: stranger things

pairing: steve harrington x fem!russian!reader/robin buckley (love triangle)

requested

part i | part ii - you're here | part iii | part iv

| part v - steve’s ending | part vi - robin’s ending | steve's ending - steve's pov (special!) (coming soon) | robin's ending - robin's pov (special!) (coming soon)

warnings: this fic deals with a lot of stereotypes and prejudice based on nationality. mentions of nationalism, the fear of violence/harassment, internal conflict (a little), feeling like you need to hide the real you, etc. spoilers, blood, throw up, etc.

disclaimer: in light of recent acts of war inflicted on ukraine by russia, i wish to make it clear that i am in no way supporting russia through this series. a, this series was written well in advance to the conflict coming to light and, b, this is set in a different time in history/society/public relations. my heart hurts for the ukraine and for everyone that is effected negatively by the acts of war incited by russia. i am also horribly heartbroken over the people who have died thus far and i am deeply sorry for the families of the people that are stuck in the ukraine or that have died.

sidenote warning: the reader is written to do ballet - explained above. quickly proof-read, will proof-read better when i redo my older fics and edit my newer fics.

sidenote: throughout the series, there will be some scenes skipped. this was a creative choice when i had to edit some things out to shorten it (it was over 100 pages).

taglist: @the-weeping-author | @lilypad-55449 | @spongebob-in-the-upsidedown | @rottenstyx | @badass-yn | @boxofsilentwords (disclaimer: i put both steve and robin's taglist members as it isn't just a steve or robin fic)

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- not my gif -

Y/N sat back on her knees as Dustin’s voice echoed against the aluminum walls. “So, when we set fire to the hub, we drew the Demodogs away so El could close the gate. But, now for some insane reason, the Russians appear to be trying to reopen it, which just destroys everything we risked our lives for.” He explained the whole Upside Down ordeal to Erica as he slowly unscrewed the panel on the fan’s box.

“By ‘we’ you’re including Lucas?” Erica questioned, bobbing her head which made the beams from the flashlights they attached to her helmet wobble.

“Yes, of course.” Dustin answered, looking over his shoulder at her, squinting his eyes against the bright lights.

“So, all that shit you told me, Lucas was there?”

“Yeah.” Dustin nodded, stopping his work on the panel to look at Erica. Y/N huffed out, beginning to get antsy the longer Steve and Robin were held captive.

“My brother, Lucas Charles Sinclair?” She pressed, still not believing him. The very brother she viewed as a huge chicken and nerd battled interdimensional monsters when he couldn't even stand up against his own little sister?

“Oh my god,” Y/N breathed out. “Yes, Lucas was there, I saw him with my own two eyes both years, can we please move on so we can get help and rescue Steve and Robin please?” She urged the conversation on, hoping her own eyewitness testimony of Lucas being involved with all of it since Y/N (who was dragged into it by her friendship with Jonathan which has since died out due to him spending all his time with Nancy) would give Erica the satisfaction she needed to move on.

“I don’t believe you two.” She shook her head, pursing her lips. Y/N groaned as Dustin snapped his head around to look at her, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He couldn’t understand why she didn't believe that Lucas was there. With an incredulous look, he sputtered a bit.

“Wait, so you believe everything about El and the gate, and the Demodogs and the Mind Flayer, but you question your brother’s involvement?” He asked, his hands falling limp onto his thighs as he sat back on his heels, dumbfounded. Erica nodded along as he spoke.

“That’s correct.” She confirmed, looking at the panel Dustin had yet to get off.

“Makes total sense.” Dustin muttered sarcastically with a side-eyed glance at the younger girl, getting back to work on the same screw he had been working on for the past five minutes.

“Okay, now that all of that is cleared up, can we please get this fan disabled? It’s getting way too hot down here and, most importantly, Steve and Robin are being held hostage in a military base and questioned because they think they are spies,” She stressed, letting her head fall back against the wall behind her, fanning herself slightly. She was sticky, uncomfortable, and her hair was drenched with sweat. Normally, she wouldn’t care, but if they were trying to find help looking any worse than they do now, they would be getting a one-way ticket right into a mental facility which meant that Steve and Robin would have to be stuck down in the Russian base for the rest of their lives. “Which, I guess some of the blame is on me for that because I stupidly said we were Americans working for them, but still - hurry up.” She barked, talking out loud.

“Do you need help with that?” Erica asked Dustin, also noting how long it was taking him to get the screws undone.

“No.”

“Well, I mean, it is taking a while so-” Erica agreed with Y/N, but she was cut off by Dustin.

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.” Dustin snapped back at her, making Y/N lift her head to glare at him. She understood he was tense about leaving his mentor behind, but he truly was not just a pain in the ass for taking so long, but he was also becoming rather rude.

“All right, so if we don’t find a more efficient method to stop these fans, we’re not gonna find help, and like Y/N pointed out, your ice cream buddies are screwed.” She dished his attitude right back with the usual bob of her head. Dustin dropped the screwdriver to his lap again making Y/N breathe out a hissing breath, feeling like she was breathing fire at this point.

“Yeah, with that attitude, they are,” Dustin quipped, slowly raising the screwdriver again. “Jee-zus!” He muttered, turning back to the panel to idly twist the screwdriver yet again.

“Move,” Y/N impatiently crawled over between them, gently shouldering Dustin out of the way. “I will be damned if I waste any more time down here listening to you guys bickering while two of the most important people in my life are up there being beaten up.” She mumbled, grabbing the screwdriver from Dustin and twisting the screw effortlessly.

Dustin looked over at Erica, his mouth slack in shock from her sternness and pessimism. “We’re just being realistic,” Erica shrugged in defence of the two as the screw dropped to the aluminum, pinging as it bounced once. She quickly went to work on the last one, grunting slightly from how tight it was screwed in. “I mean, we’ve made it about point-three miles in nine hours. Then we had to walk three hours down that tunnel so I’d estimate ten miles back to the elevator, which should take us approximately,” She paused, eyes drifting up to the ceiling as she did the math in her head. “Twelve-and-a-half days.” She concluded with a nod. Y/N glanced over at her, impressed that she did that math in her head in such a short time.

“Did you just do all of that in your head?” Dustin asked, stunned.

“I’m good with numbers.” Erica shrugged as if it were no big deal.

“Holy shit, you’re a nerd.” Dustin breathed out in realization as Y/N went back to working on the last screw.

“Come again?” Erica gasped, offended by his accusation.

“You. Are. A. Nerd.” He spoke slowly with a pause between each word. Y/N rolled her eyes as their bickering picked back up.

“Okay, you better take that back, Nerd.” She warned him.

“Can’t put the truth back in the box.” Dustin shrugged simply.

“But it’s not the truth.”

“Let’s examine the facts, shall we,” Dustin paused. “Fact one: you’re a math whiz, apparently.” He stated.

“That was a pretty straightforward equation-”

“Fact number two: you’re a political junkie.” He listed again, making Y/N nod in agreement. The last screw fell to the ground, once again plunking as it bounced. Despite all the screws being out, the panel stayed in place making Y/N try to slip her fingers under it.

“Just because I don’t agree with Communism as an ideology-” She defended herself before Dustin interrupted, grabbing her backpack that sat beside her.

“Fact number three: you love My Little Pony.” Dustin finished his examination, pointing to the cartoon ponies on her bag just as Y/N pried the panel off the wall, eyeing the jumbled mess of wires.

“And what does My Little Pony have to do with this?” She asked defensively, grabbing her bag back. Y/N ignored the two as she inspected the mess of wires tangled into a ball, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Ah, let’s recall the ponies’ latest adventure, shall we,” Dustin sighed, thinking back. “The evil centaur team and Tirek turns Applejack into a dragon at Midnight Castle, and then Megan and the other ponies have to use Moochick’s magic to defeat his rainbow of darkness, saving them from a lifetime of enslavement.” He rattled off making Y/N look at him with a weird expression.

“You can’t unscrew a panel in ten minutes, but you can recall an entire My Little Pony plotline?” She questioned, but Dustin ignored her.

“All the pink in the world can’t disguise the irrefutable fact that centaurs and castles and dragons and magic are all standard nerd tropes. Ergo, My Little Pony is nerdy. Ergo, you, Erica, are a nerd.” He concluded his point as Erica looked down at her backpack.

“And how do you know so much about My Little Pony?” She questioned, happy to have him also backed into a corner. Y/N, giving up on trying to figure out the wires, reached in and grabbed the ball in the center.

“Because I’m a nerd.” He said proudly just as Y/N yanked the cords out, sparks shooting out from the plugs a short distance. Y/N leaned back, avoiding being hit by the orange sparks as the fan slowed to a stop, making them all look at it.

“Come on, we can’t waste any more time.” Y/N instructed, shuffling to one side so that they could crawl through in front of her.

“Yeah, let’s go,” He paused, turning to get on his hands and knees. “Nerd.” He shot back at Erica. Grumbling, Erica slipped her bag back on as Dustin crawled through first before following him, Y/N taking her spot at the end of the pack.

____

Pulled herself out of the new hatch they discovered to join Dustin and Erica, Y/N let out a low whistle as she took in the room they now found themselves in. “That’s a lot of chemicals,” She noted, looking around at all the hexagon-shaped storage containers filling the room. They were floor to ceiling, but they looked like they only held forty-eight containers of mystery chemicals per box. Scanning around the room, they could hear the hiss of the cooling agent in the storage containers, the white mist rolling within them. “Now we just have to figure out where the hell we are within the compound,” Y/N muttered, searching for a map of some kind.

“Oh-ho-ho.” Dustin bounced up and down when his eye caught something, prompting him to take off, leaving Y/N and Erica rushing after him and down a small set of stairs into a darker room.

“Do you even know how to drive?” Erica asked Dustin once they spotted the red buggy thing.

“How hard can it be? Max did it.” He shrugged, hopping into the driver's seat.

“Max did it illegally while nearly killing us,” Y/N reminded him, shoving him over. “Driving is not as simple as you think, it takes practice to figure out how to properly place your weight on the gas pedal to go a constant speed, now shove over, if anyone is driving - it’s me.” She informed them, giving Dustin one last shove.

Dustin didn’t move, instead, he reached for the ignition, his hand meeting an empty slot. “Aw, come on.”

“You seriously thought they’d just leave the keys in there?” Erica questioned him as she stood on the other side of the buggy, judging him.

“There’s gotta be a spare.” He ignored her as well, searching every nook and cranny of the buggy for another set of keys. Erica sighed, shaking her head, wandering away from the pair of them.

“Yeah, they are probably on a guard or something, they wouldn’t just leave a spare set laying around in the buggy, especially not after a breach.” Y/N pointed out, watching him continue to dig around, laying completely flat on the bench seat.

“Hey, guys?” Erica’s voice spoke up from a short distance away. Y/N looked over, spotting a suspicious-looking stainless steel cage that looked more secure than their underground base. She turned away from the buggy, quickly walking over to where Erica stood, both of them gawking at the cage.

“Yeah?” Dustin responded, sitting back up, but not looking towards her as he checked the back of the buggy.

“How big did you say that Demogorgon was?”

“Big, nine feet or so, why?” He asked, still not looking over as he continued his search for the keys. Erica, finding him useless, tapped Y/N’s hand gently, pointing to something down another short corridor before leading her down there.

“So the Russians don’t just want to open the gate, but they also want to trap a Demogorgon,” Y/N whispered, trying to figure out what was going on. “This just means we have to work faster to save Steve and Robin so that we can get out of here and warn the others.” She determined, not paying attention to Erica as she sauntered around, looking at all the weapons that Y/N also didn’t notice.

“Well, let’s use this to help save them.” Erica suggested.

“Use what-” Y/N furrowed her brows, whirling around only to find Erica holding a stick of some kind way too close to her face. “Holy shit, can you not put that in my face please,” Y/N asked as she carefully pushed it away from her face. “What does that even do anyway?”

“Beats me, I think you push this-” Erica cut herself off when she hit a button, causing an electrical current to shoot between the little nodes, making an arch. “Cool!” She exclaimed, eyes wide in excitement.

“Not cool, that probably has enough voltage to kill a child!” Y/N worried, her eyes wide in fear. Erica shrugged, relaxing her arm that she held the stick up with, pointing the electric end to the ground, walking away from Y/N, following the corridor. Groaning, Y/N followed after her, scared she would play with more dangerous weapons. They curved around, coming out behind Dustin as he held the spare keys in his hand.

“Erica? Y/N?” He called, his voice echoing and stern. Erica pulled the stick back up, hitting the button making the blue current come alive once again with a loud zap. Y/N and Dustin both flinched at the sound as Dustin turned to face them.

“What the hell is that?” Dustin yelled, sliding farther away from the stick as Erica let the button go, turning it off. She shrugged, looking down at it.

“A deadly weapon,” She remarked as if it wasn’t obvious. “Could be useful.” She pointed out, hitting the button again. With another loud zap, the blue string of electricity was back. Backing away with his hands up, Dustin didn’t take his eyes off the stick, not trusting Erica with a weapon such as that.

“For what?” He asked once she let the button go again, lowering his arms.

“What do you think? Taking down Commies, saving your friends.” Erica pointed out.

“You know not all Russians are Communists, right?” Y/N asked Erica, earning a deadpanned look from the younger girl. She seemed to be using the two terms interchangeably, and Y/N just wanted to be sure that Erica wasn’t going to use the electrocution stick on her if she somehow found out she was Russian.

“Saying as though it’s a Government Funded mission with the army involved, I think it’s safe to assume that these Russians are in fact Commies.” Erica shot back at her sassily. Y/N nodded, it was a fair point.

“Thought you were more realistic than me, Nerd,” Dustin shot back, bringing the conversation back around. Erica rolled her eyes, walking to the passenger seat of the buggy. “We don’t even know where they are, and even if we did, there are a million guards up there with weapons way deadlier than that.” Dustin pointed out the flaw in her plan as he started to walk towards the buggy. Y/N swooped beside him, taking the keys from him.

“You’re not getting behind the wheel,” She remarked before he could protest, keeping the keys away from him. “Besides, they were obviously planning on using that stick thing on a Demogorgon so it would have to be a pretty powerful weapon.” She remarked as Dustin climbed into the buggy, scooting to sit in the middle of the bench seat.

“Look, the best thing we can do for them is to get out of here and find help-” Dustin tried to tell them, but Erica accidentally waved the stick too close to his face as he situated himself - cutting him off. “Easy with that,” He pleaded as Y/N slipped into the driver’s seat. “Our chances of survival, and theirs, rises substantially.” Dustin continued.

“Well, that will be plan A, but something might happen where we have to rescue them before getting out of here.” Y/N warned.

“Just trust me on this, please?” Dustin begged the both of them. Nodding, Y/N put the keys in the ignition, twisting them. Dustin nodded, happy that nobody was arguing with him as the engine powered on with a weird, futuristic noise.

“Okay, before we go any farther, can we at least come up with a plan where we save Steve and Robin then go from there?” Y/N stopped suddenly, making Dustin groan for the umpteenth time.

____

“The General just left, let’s go,” Y/N whispered to Erica and Dustin as they all hid in a dark corridor. Waving them around the corner, she kept an eye out in case a guard came running by. “That door, that door!” Y/N told them as she followed behind them, pointing to the door she saw the General come out of. Erica handed Dustin over the stick as they all looked to each other, waiting for the go-ahead.

“Let’s do this.” Dustin nodded, shoving the door open with a battle cry. Y/N could hear the zap of the stick turning on as Erica and she ran in after him, watching as he electrocuted what appeared to be a doctor of some kind, sending him limp to the ground. Y/N and Erica gawked at it as smoke slowly rolled off of the man’s chest before focusing on the task at hand when Steve began to talk, making them take a look at the horrible state of his face.

“Hey! Henderson,” Steve exclaimed excitedly as Dustin started to work on his restraints. Robin started giggling, looking over her shoulder at Dustin. “That’s crazy, I was just talking about you.” He giggled. Y/N rushed over to Robin, working on the restraints on her ankles.

“Oh, my god!” Robin laughed at the coincidence. As Y/N moved to work on the restraints keeping the pair together only to realize that the buckle was on Steve’s side.

“Get ready to run.” Dustin ordered them. Y/N sent him a nervous look over the two as they fell into a giggling mess. It didn’t seem like they could run at this point. Not only was Steve so beat up, but they also seemed high off their asses.

“I’ll pull the buggy up to the door, then you guys get them in the back.” Y/N told them, running out into the hall, starting the buggy up to bring it from the corridor they hid it in. Cringing as the beeps blared in the empty corridor, she hoped the alarm would drown it out before it would reach any guard’s ears. Blindly, she backed up to what she thought was the door and hopped out, leaving the buggy running.

“Y/N, you need to help me, I can’t get Steve up!” Dustin told her as she opened the back doors, getting ready to toss them in. Running back into the room, she saw Erica supporting Robin with a struggle, slowly making their way to the buggy.

“Grab his arms, I’ll steady him.” She told Dustin, getting behind Steve and placing her hands on his shoulders, helping push him out of the chair. He groaned in protest, acting like a child being woken up for school. His head lulled backward, his brown eyes fluttering open to look at Y/N upside down.

“Hey, I’m glad the Russians didn’t figure out that you’re a Russian, that would have been bad if they did,” Steve giggled, drawing out the word ‘bad’, pulling a hand from Dustin’s grip to boop her nose. “Would have spilled your secret to Dustin and Erica, but don’t worry, your secret is still safe with me.” He rambled, making Dustin look over at her with furrowed brows.

“You’re a Russian?” He asked, nearly dropping Steve.

“Yes, my parents are immigrants, can we focus on that later, right now we need to go.” She pressed him, slinging one of Steve’s arms over her shoulder to support him while Dustin did the same. They hobbled as quickly as they could out the door, just barely getting Steve to the buggy before he automatically crawled in.

“This is a big bed,” He slurred, flopping down on it. “It’s not very soft though.” Was the last thing they heard before they closed and locked the door on them. They could hear the muffled voices, but they couldn’t distinguish what they were saying until they crawled into the bench seat.

“Hang on tight, we’re going for a bit of a ride!” Y/N warned, putting it in drive and stomping on the gas. Dustin and Erica toppled onto each other before they scrambled to sit upright, holding on for dear life as Y/N gained speed, speeding through the corridor. Behind them, in the back, Steve and Robin rolled around, their skin screeching against the cold metal, but they didn’t seem to feel it.

“Jesus, slow down!” Steve slurred as they were thrown against the back of the cab, his fingers almost slipping through one of the large circles letting them see-through. Dustin poked the finger back in.

“Keep your fingers back there.” He told him sternly, but Steve ignored it.

“Yeah, what is this, like the Indy 500?” Robin joined in, her speech just as slurred as Steve’s. Y/N tried to tune them out as she checked the mirrors to see if any guards were following them.

“It’s the Indy 300.” Steve corrected her.

“No Dingus,” Robin cried out. “It’s 500!”

“It’s 300!”

“Let’s say a million.” Robin settled, making the two of them fall into a fit of laughter. Erica looked back, watching them through the cage as they fell over.

“What is wrong with them?” She asked, jabbing her thumb behind her, looking between Dustin and Y/N as they focused in front of them. Y/N gasped slightly as the wheel jerked out of her control for a second before gripping it tighter and picking her speed back up.

“I don’t know.” Dustin answered truthfully.

“It’s pretty obvious, they are high. The General must have injected them with something.” Y/N took her eyes off the front for a second.

“Y/N, watch out!” Erica yelled, pointing right in front of them. Looking back, her eyes widened as the buggy sped towards a stack of metal barrels. She took her foot off the gas, slamming in on the brake making them all pitch forward. Steve and Robin, who had no time to prepare slammed against the cage, making them groan. The three up front thankfully had time to react and saved themselves from concussions.

“You guys alright back there,” Dustin asked as Y/N turned the buggy off. All three turned to look at the two in the back, seeing them both rubbing their heads. They only groaned in response, sitting up. “They’re fine.” Sparing glances at each other, they all climbed out of the cab, running to the back.

“I really hope this part is easier than the others.” Y/N whispered as Dustin unlocked the back, swinging the door open to reveal the two doped up idiots still rubbing the backs of their heads.

“Come on,” Dustin ordered the two as the three of them stared at them, but they didn’t move. “We gotta go, now.” He added, but they just continued to whine and groan, rolling around. Looking at each other, Y/N, Dustin, and Erica all began to yell at them, finally making them move. Getting close enough to them, they all grabbed one part of them, yanking Steve and Robin out of the buggy.

“Do the keycard, Dustin.” Y/N nodded towards him as she steadied Steve who kept stumbling over his own feet, his head bowed. The ends of his tangled hair tickled her shoulder, but she tried to ignore the urge to scratch it as she tried to drag him towards the elevator.

“Here goes nothin’.” Dustin took a deep breath before quickly swiping the card, the machine beeping.

“This sucks.” Steve slurred, wiping under his nose aggressively as Y/N tried her best to keep him standing upright. The large door started to slowly open with a mechanical whirring noise. It was miraculously quiet as they watched it open, eyes following the industrial-looking door until it was open enough for them to walk under. Erica and Y/N dragging Robin and Steve in behind them, their slurred giggles echoing down the corridor.

“Shut the door,” Y/N told Dustin as she leaned Steve up against the shelves, his body slumping against it as he collapsed into himself with laughter over something his drugged-up mind thought of. Dustin obeyed, sauntering up to the close button, slamming his palm into it, the door instantly retracting back down. “Okay, what’s the plan once we get back to the loading docks?” Y/N asked, joining Dustin over by the panel as he hit the up button, slamming the door closed. Erica, leaving Robin with Steve, joined them as well.

“Do you have your car with you?” Dustin wondered, the elevator jolting as it started to ascend, the two teens behind them stumbling and giggling goofily as they lost their footing.

Y/N shook her head. “No, it’s in the shop, I took the bus here and Steve was supposed to drive me home,” Dustin groaned, letting his forehead fall against the cool metal of the elevator wall. “Maybe escaping the base was the easy part.” She muttered. Steve was in no condition to drive, but on top of that, trying to communicate the fact that they need his car keys from him will be nearly impossible in his state.

“The only option left is to try and get him to give us his keys,” Erica pointed out, looking over her shoulder at Steve and Robin, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Uh, guys, you might want to see what they are doing.” She told Y/N and Dustin, making them whirl around, their mouths falling open at the sight of Robin holding the flatbed cart as Steve tried to step onto it.

“Well, at least they are distracted so we can actually plan things out,” Y/N tried to offer a positive spin to the situation, that was until Steve and Robin began to whoop and laugh obnoxiously loud, making Y/N cringe, their voices echoing off the walls. “Or, they are just going to do that.” She sighed, gesturing to the pair as Steve managed to stand on the cart, his arms out to his sides.

“Hey,” Robin exclaimed, not realizing how loud her voice was. “You look like you’re surfing!” She told Steve, making him swing around, his hands on the handle of the cart, his face in Robin’s. Y/N huffed, rolling her eyes as their eyes connected.

“Surfing,” Steve yelled right after Robin as if it was his own idea. “Yeah,” He nodded eagerly, trying to swing back around to regain his position, but the elevator shook slightly making Robin wobble, the cart twitching. “Whoa!” Steve exclaimed, his already poor balance being thrown off, making him stumble on the cart, his hands waving through the air to balance himself again.

“They seem drunk.” Erica noted, looking at both Y/N and Dustin.

“Why would they be drunk?” Dustin asked, looking back at Steve and Robin.

“I’m a natural! Check it out,” Steve yelled just before Robin yanked the cart towards her, making him topple forward. “Whoop!” He made a noise as he fell onto the ground beside one of the piles of boxes that were scattered around the elevator, Robin’s laugh echoing around them as she moved her hands crazily.

“Wipeout!” She exclaimed as Steve rolled onto his back, his head propped up against a box, his chin pressed to his chest, laughter bubbling up. Y/N and Dustin rushed over to him, sitting on their knees on either side of him. Dustin wasted no time to clamp a hand over his forehead, Steve wiggling as he tried to bat it away, making Y/N grab his wrists.

“He’s burning up.” Dustin announced, looking from Steve to Y/N before settling on Erica for a second.

“You’re burning up,” Steve muttered, still fighting against them, making Y/N grip his wrists tighter, trying to keep his arms from flinging around, but he broke free. Dustin tried to get him to calm down, whispering calm words such as ‘one sec’ or ‘Steve’ in hopes he would stop wiggling. “God, no,” Steve whined, trying to push Dustin away from him as he tried to look at his eyes. “Ow!” He said as if he was a child who bumped his knee, closing his eyes on Dustin, but he saw enough, looking back at Erica.

“His pupils are super dilated.”

“Maybe he’s drugged.” Erica suggested with a shrug.

“That’s exactly what’s going on, I told you guys,” Y/N stood up, her hands falling on her hips. Dustin stayed by Steve’s side, but Steve’s mind was already wondering. Looking down at him, Y/N watched as he blinked at her calves, jabbing one with his finger. “The Russian’s probably injected them with a truth serum, that’s why they seem drunk.” She explained, swatting Steve’s hand away as he tried to poke the back of her knee, but he didn’t mind, instead, looking to Dustin.

Turning back to Steve, Dustin was met by Steve poking the tip of his nose. “Uh, boop!” Steve made the noise, his eyelids fluttering closed. Dustin ignored this, leaning over him, sending two pats to his cheek. His eyelids lifted again, his eyes heavy with a daze as he looked up at Dustin.

“Steve, are you drugged?” Dustin asked, expecting him to be able to answer that question.

“How many times, Dad,” Steve started to answer with a sassy head bob. “I don’t do drugs. It’s only marijuana.” He sassed Dustin, his finger coming up to tap Dustin’s nose once again. Losing his cool, Dustin scrunched his nose up, slapping Steve’s hand away from his face.

“This isn’t funny, okay? I need to know what they did to you,” Dustin stressed, but Steve just giggled, stuffing one of the ends of his scarf up his nostril. “Are you gonna die on us?” Dustin asked, trying to get through to Steve, but Steve only reached his hand back up to Dustin’s face, wanting to just boop his nose again, but accidentally used his whole hand.

“Boop.” He made the noise again, his eyes fluttering closed.

“We all die, my strange little child friend,” Robin spoke up for the first time since Steve fell, making them all look at her. She played with two locks of her short, blonde hair, her blue eyes wide, her head tilted, all matched with one of the creepiest looks Y/N has ever seen. “It’s just a matter of how,” She spoke in a breathy tone, leaning forward in her crouched position. “And when.”

They all stared at her for a few seconds, silence filling the elevator as they neared the top. Blinking, Y/N couldn’t form a single thought in her brain, too creeped out by Robin’s philosophical advice. Dustin, shaking his head, looked back to Steve. “They’re gonna be looking for us up there, so I need you to tell me where you parked your car.” Dustin told him.

“Oh, can we make a pit stop at the food court?” Steve asked, his voice deep as raspy.

“I think the drugs are starting to wear off, just a bit though,” Y/N told Dustin, noting the way Steve spoke and his slower movements. “He’s gonna be in a lot of pain soon.” She whispered to herself, shaking her head as she peered down at Steve, dropping back down beside him. His angry red eyes, the dried blood streaming from his nose, the dark cut right on his lower lip, and the smeared blood around his mouth - it all looked painful. But the worst-looking one yet was the angry swelling around his eye.

“I would kill for a hot dog on a stick!” Robin ignored Y/N, only focusing on the food.

“It seems to be leaving Steve’s system faster than Robin’s.” She noted, looking up at Dustin who looked quite annoyed by their scattered minds.

“Ooh!” Steve sang, his eyes staring off as he fantasized about a hot dog on a stick.

“All right. Yeah, food. Yes,” Dustin nodded, looking back down at Steve. “You can have as much food as you want, but only if you tell me where your car is parked.” Dustin lied, knowing they wouldn’t remember his promise a minute from now.

“Uh-oh.” Steve spoke promptly, his wide brown eyes looking up at Dustin just like a child admitting to something bad to their mother. Y/N’s heart dropped, knowing that there could not be anything good following that.

“Uh-oh?” She and Dustin repeated.

“The car’s off the board.” Steve informed them.

“What?” Dustin asked, not wanting to react just yet in case Steve was just playing a trick on them.

“They took the keys,” Steve answered, his hands slipping into the pockets of his work shorts, turning them inside out. “The Russians, they took my keys,” He showed them his empty pockets, making the last bit of hope drain from Dustin’s eyes while Robin laughed in the background, finding it all so funny. “Like forever ago,” He added in, dropping his hands on the floor with a clang, Robin’s laughter making him laugh. “That’s a bummer, right?” He looked up at Dustin, proving that even if the drugs were slightly wearing off, he was nowhere near sober. With a sense of doom and fear, Dustin shared a look with Y/N before they both looked at Erica, none of them knowing what to do now.

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[doubledgesword-2]

So someone stole my work, thought it was a good idea to impersonate me and claimed it was their own. So I’m posting it here so people know I’m the original author. Art is not mine. Part 1 Soulmate au! Please do not te upload somewhere else!!

WARNING NON-CON AND EXPLICIT SMUT

It was weird but not unheard of to have three soulmates. Lots of people reassured you it just meant more love for you. You, on the other hand, didn't felt it. Reading the names on both your wrists and the one on the top right corner of your back, just gave you chills. Not the good kind.

After doing some research on the names and better yet the last names of the three, you concluded that nothing good was going to come from this. You weren't a hunter, neither were you powerful. One could almost say you were average or normal when it came to brute strength.

So you did what any sane person would do. You disappeared. With some expert help and a lot of money involved, you erased yourself from the records, not leaving so much as a hair behind. It wasn't ideal, but you didn't want to spend the rest of your life running from a new enemy every week. Besides, if the three hadn't bothered to look for you, you figured you'd do them a favor, as angsty as it sounds.

Rural life wasn't bad. Leaving the big crowded cities and trading them for the quiet of the forest; it did you some good. You had a little cottage in the woods. Very far from anything and anyone. In the beginning, it was scary. What if something were to happened to you? Who would you run to? But as time went by, your experiences gave you the wisdom you needed.

So here you were gathering some water, inside a wooden bucket, from the nearby river. You pressed the bucket to your hip, leaning over to support the weight as your other hand had a bunch of pretty flowers. A nice touch for the kitchen today.

The forest was quiet today, peaceful with some little bird songs and the stream's running water. You walked amongst the trees happily, breathing in the cold air. Although the sun was beaming right on you, it didn't make you feel hot. The cold weather of the approaching winter contrasted the heat nicely inside your sweater.

Still, you kept walking blissfully, unaware of the stares focused on you. You did felt the paranoia hit you in the back, but this forest was vast, and in the time you'd lived here, no one has come across your little cottage.

Said cottage was in view as you walked. The sun setting meant you were on time to snug inside the house and turn on the chimney. Sure the smoke would be an indication that someone was there. But who would be looking for you? You had no family; cutting ties with your friends was easy since the relationships were shallow, and quitting the job felt like relief. You walked by your little garden, which was your pride and hobby, plus the only thing giving the house feel personality. The cottage wasn't like any standard wooden house. You asked it to be made and even pitched in with the workers to put some sweat into it. Afterward, all plans were equally erased like you. The house worked on solar panels, giving you the luxury of some electricity, which came in handy for the winter. A small chicken coop on the side gave you eggs and helped with the crops. It had the piping and whatnot, but overall everything was very eco friendly as you had insisted. You liked the place, and it seemed like a beautiful house to live the rest of your days without a worry. Sure it did get lonely during those sleepless nights. The ones were you thought too much about why your soulmates never cared to find you and reject you straight out. You didn't felt like dying by their hand. You weren't a fool; you knew their reputation, but something inside you gave you some light to hope. The light that you ended up squashing just because. The four of you were better off without each other. You really didn't want to be involved in their jobs and amusements.

You went inside, placing the bucket outside the front of the house and closing the heavy wooden door behind you locking it in the process. Inside the kitchen, you replaced the dying flowers with the new batch and quickly watched your hands to cook some dinner. You lighted the chimney in the living room, making the house feel warm and snuggly while putting some music on. You had taken off your shoes at the door and were parading around the house in fluffy socks, which made you slide into the kitchen as you danced like no one was watching.

As you stirred the pot and dropped more spices and ingredients into it, you heard a light tapping against the window at the kitchen side. Being in the forest had made you immune to the peculiar noises and the groans of the house when it was cold outside. You were pretty much anti-jump scare, but you were still new, so it was a work in progress.

You cleaned your hands on your apron and made your way to the window. You wanted isolation, but you weren’t completely crazy to be all alone in the woods. That’s why you made a friend.

“Well, hello there, big guy! How was your day today?” You opened the window, letting in the medium-sized fluffy black cat and closing it after he was inside.

You received a mewl as the cat rubbed himself against your legs and jumped on the turned dining chair. The kitchen and the dining room were fused, so you were sitting and reading while keeping an eye on dinner.

“Wow, taking my place? You’re rich, you know that?” The cat almost seems to shrug, giving you another mewl and licking his paws.

You smiled, shaking your head and focusing on dinner.

After everything was done, you washed the dishes and cleaned the surfaces. Just because you had a cat didn’t mean you wanted to give the mice a reason to come in. You rubbed the back of your neck, squeezing the spot as you walked towards your bathroom to wash up. The ball of black fluff eagerly following behind you to enter your room.

“You just want to get on my bed, don’t you? Here I was thinking you wanted to accompany me,” the cat meowed, jumping on the bed and kneading the folded blankets.

You chuckled, lighting the small fireplace inside the room. You turned to your vanity, picking your night clothes and turning to bathe. The warm water did help you relax more, maybe you shouldn’t carry the bucket with one arm. But the flowers you picked were worth it.

You came into the room towel in your hair and dressed in a robe. Only to stop abruptly, eyes widening at the fact that a man was sitting on your bed petting your cat like it was the most normal thing. He didn’t turn to look at you, and you quietly walked back, towel still in hand, but not far. You bumped into a hard chest, and if you hadn’t turned around to look, you would’ve thought it was the bedroom door. You gasped really scared at the fact that there were two men inside your bedroom, and you hadn’t even heard them come in. The man in front of you grinned joyfully and took a step towards you. Your eyes immediately went to the window in your room, and before you knew it, your feet had carried you there.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you” the cliche rolled off one of their tongues, making you annoyed and irked despite the adrenaline rush.

You turned glaring, and that’s when spotted the third man on the other of the room leaning against your vanity with a book in hand. This was bad. Really bad. It had been a short couple of years, but you could see the resemblance. They had found you.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, you’re quite hard to find” the man with the slicked-back hair closed the book looking at you with cold black eyes and the ghost of a smile. One, you didn’t return.

As he spoke the tall and pale, magenta hair one took two steps toward you placing his hand on his waist. You took a step back, eyeing him warily. You didn’t smile or showed any joy at the fact that your soulmates had actually found you. You didn’t felt the overflowing love people used to say you would for having more than one soul mark. Instead, all you felt was cold and afraid for your life, fear running icily in your veins. Despite having a nen ability, you knew little of it ,and you could feel the aura they were letting off. It didn’t reassure you. On the contrary, it made you feel like cornered prey.

“What do you want?” Your voice could be considered an authoritative whisper as it flowed shakily pass your lips.

There was a moment of silence, and then the one dressed as a clown laughed merrily at your question. You could see amusement slip through the cold expression from the man that had spoken before.

“Danchou, I thought she would be smart,” the clown asked, looking to the man to you.

Your eyes hardened, annoyed, but still, you said nothing. The only person who hasn’t spoken was the long black hair one petting your cat—that fluffy traitor.

“Well, maybe she doesn’t recognize us. That gives us the chance to introduce ourselves. My name’s Chrollo Lucilfer.”

“Hiso-“

“I know who you are, who all of you are,” you interrupted, looking at all three of them, making the clown arch a brow in interest. “That doesn’t answer what you’re doing here or what do you want” you were angry and scared, nervously looking into their eyes.

“My dear darling, well, that’s easily answered. We’re here to take you home, make you happy, and all the in-betweens,” the clown expressed, giving you a playful feeling. He was waiting for you to make a move so he could jump at you. They all were.

“Thank you, but I am home. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I would like to sleep, so if you could just leave?” You have them a sardonic smile hoping against hope they would accept the rejection and actually leave. It was a fool's wish.

“But soulmates are supposed to be together,” the man with long black hair finally spoke. His voice monotone and calm. It made your skin crawl. Oh, hell, no.

He finally turned to look at you, his big black eyes almost swirling and enchanting, a manipulator at its finest. You looked to the side, avoiding him.

“Then I could only assume that you three have found your soulmates. You’re together.”

“But it gets oh so lonely without you, little fruit” Hisoka was done playing from afar and slowly walked closer to you.

This made your bloodlust flare in a warning. They all got goosebumps just looking at it, feeling the sheer intention. It wasn’t as developed as theirs, but the fact that you weren’t afraid to push them away made their paints tight.

Hisoka let out a low groan, eyes half-lidded and looking at you with a perverted smile. You looked at your cat; you could get him later, and they were smart enough to survive. Then the towel in your hand and as Hisoka came to stand closer to you, you gripped the towel hard and threw it at him, covering his face for a brief moment that allowed you to pass him. They knew you weren’t a fighter, heck you had run from them in fear. It made you a smart coward in their eyes, but they weren’t expecting you to be so quick-witted and resourceful. They should have with you living in the middle of the forest and all. You slipped into the short hallway, feeling the breeze of something spearing near your face but missing you. It made you run even faster into the living room. What you weren’t expecting was the sudden failure of your body.

The minute you slipped into the hallway, Illumi had launched several needles your way. Even though some missed their mark, one hitting you square in the back was enough. You crumbled to the floor, clutching the small sofa and leaning on it as if you were crying. You might as well be—the intense pain coming from the center of your spine emitting pulse-like electricity. The stinging sensation made a couple of fears fall down. It left you breathless.

The trio calmly made their way into the living room, looking at your slumped form.

“Soulmates are meant to be together, with time you’ll understand. Staying with us is best for you.” Illumi was crouching near your form, grabbing your arms and pulling you to lean on him instead as he petted your hair for comfort. You tried to move away or do something to get out of his cold embrace, but each attempt was met with more pain. You whimpered.

“That was a rush. It makes me wonder...~” Hisoka groaned obscenely behind Illumi, talking to Chrollo.

“She does have spirit. That could prove to be a problem.”

“Oh~ but I don’t want to break her yet. Nice toys are so hard to come by these days.”

Your sniffles cut through their banter. Your form was trembling on Illumi’s lap as he kept petting your hair.

“Don’t move” Illumi’s hand slipped to your back, and you felt the sting of the needle being plucked. Your body relaxed, letting out a sigh and breathing greedily, but still shaking. The phantom pain made you involuntarily cling to Illumi’s arms for comfort, which made the assassin’s heart flutter. It was proof that you needed them, they just had to show you.

“We should show her how much she needs us” Illumi slightly turned to look at the other two, still holding you to his chest. His face expressionless as he spoke, but the excitement in his eyes can’t be denied.

Hisoka’s eyes gleamed, his tongue coming out to slowly lick his lips as he approached Illumi and crouched down close to the two of you.

“Hmmm, splendid idea, we have to show our little flower what she’s been missing all this time” Hisoka took a strand of your hair, twirling it and pulling slightly.

“Then it’s decided,” Chrollo’s voice felt like the judge giving the verdict to seal your fate away.

Hisoka didn’t wait for Illumi, he simply took you from his arms, bridal style and clutched you tightly to his chest. As if you were some long lost heirloom, he just found and couldn’t part with. You struggled a bit, jerking in his grasp, but the recent pain had left your muscles tender and sore.

Fighting was encouraged by them but had been diminished with their antics.

The way to your room felt like a death row walk, and you couldn’t help but keep wiggling pathetically in Hisoka’s strong arms. He looked down at you, his yellow half-lidded eyes were already a telltale of what’s to come. He bit his lips when you gave him your best wide doe eyes, and you swore he sped walk, feeling the vibration of a suppressed moan deep in his chest.

He brought you down on the bed, tenderly like a lover would on their first time. Your tired body succumbed to the comfort of the mattress and the warmth of the sheets. Hisoka lowered himself, pressing his body to yours and letting you feel his arousal hot in his trousers. Alarmed, you tried once more to move, but he brought his face close to your ear.

“Don’t worry, little one, we’ll be gentle….at least this time.” He bit your earlobe, kissing the spot to soothe the sting “Mmmm, but do forgive me if I just can’t help it~” he moaned slowly, grinding his hips into yours dragging the length up and down your thighs.

You whimpered and brought your hands up to his chest, pushing him as best as you could. He grinned and sat up, still hunched over you. Looking deep into your eyes, he took his shirt off, never cutting off the eye contact. Hisoka then took your hands, trying to push off his thighs and placed them on his chiseled chest, dragging them to touch him. He moaned obscenely, and you couldn’t help but blush at his well-built frame. Your hands felt the muscles contract and relax as your fingers, guided by him, gingerly touched every single spot. Hisoka bit his lower lip, looking down at you. You haven’t even noticed he had let go of your hands, and you were freely roaming, touching so softly his chest, his stomach...it made it all the more difficult to not take you right here.

He didn’t want to scare you; after all, this was the beginning of countless nights and days of pleasure to come. Your red nose, puffy eyes, and pouty lips made him hot. As your fingers grazed his nipple ever so softly, he bursted, throwing his head back and to moan loudly. You retracted your hand alarmed, and that’s when you noticed you had been almost lying down on top of Chrollo’s lap. The man’s fingers were tangled in your locks as he massages your head.

“Hisoka, you’re going to scare her away being so loud,” Illumi said from behind Hisoka. His face on leaning over his shoulder and his hands grabbing his hips. Hisoka’s hand came up to caress Illumi’s cheek, and he once more looked down at you through glazed and sensual eyes.

“Mmm, I just can’t help it. She’s so innocent...those eyes...It turns me on~” his hips jerked up quickly, grinding against you.

“Make her feel good first,” Illumi whispered in Hisoka’s ear, making eye contact with you, as he kissed the clown’s neck.

Hisoka crawled back, his hands softly running down your thighs. Chrollo unmade the knot holding your robe closed, and uncovered your body to them. You gasped, remembering you had just showered and had nothing but your dignity. The sight of your skin glowing under the dim moonlight coming from the window mixed with the reds and oranges from the crackling fire made their mouths water. Your squirming was pitiful at best, hands trying to grab the robe and close it, but Chrollo snatched your wrists pinning them down beside your head. He lowered his face closer to you and dive into your lips. His locks coming to the sides of his face and his soft lips molding against yours. For a moment, you forgot who these men were. Their sweet caresses here and there as Hisoka brought his face to nuzzle your stomach leaving kisses and marks wherever his lips touch. Chrollo took your alarmed gasp as an opportunity letting his tongue inside to explore. He groaned when you trying to escape him, lightly bumped into his arousal. He let your lips go, both of you breathing heavily.

He wanted more. "You are the greatest jewel I have ever stolen" he muttered his minty breath fanning over your abused lips.

Hisoka lowered all the way in between your legs, but you self-consciously closed them from him. He pouted like a kid who had seen his new toy but couldn't have it. Illumi pried them open, putting everything on display. Hisoka chuckled darkly, his hands rubbed your thighs and knees, and then they rested on the bed. Seeing your chance, you attempted to close them once more, but couldn’t. Looking up, you saw Hisoka smirking at you with a dark knowing look. He did it and now you could see the pink substance sticking your legs open to the bed.

“Bungee gum, love, has the capabilities of both gum and rubber.” His face came closer to your core, you could feel his excited breath, and it gave you goosebumps. He moaned bitting and kissing the inside of your thighs “I can’t wait to see your beautiful nen. The thought makes my pants so tight~” he licked his lips and dived into your entrance.

You moaned a bit overwhelmed at the sensation of his tongue, sucking and exploring inside without a care. The slurping sounds made you blush even harder. Still, you couldn’t deny the arousal building up, or the knot in your stomach tightening even more. At the same time, Chrollo and Illumi took it upon themselves to suck on your chest. Their teeth grazed your nipples, with the danger of biting down, and your back arched perfectly, allowing them more access to your perked nipples.

The pleasure was overriding all the red flags and alarms going off in your head, not too long ago. It was making you pliant, your heated body melting into their touches. You bucked your hips into Hisoka, and his hands came to rest on your hips, making you whine. He smiled, his tongue licking a slow and torturous strip up your slit ending on your clit. He latched on to your bud, eliciting a whine, brows furrowing at the electric feeling surging through your body.

Then something snapped inside you; you shut your eyes, letting out a loud moan, your body shaking as pleasure rolled all over your body. Faintly you heard Hisoka moaned equally loud, slurping all your liquids like he was starved. While still in your high, you didn’t notice Hisoka take off the rest of his clothes, his arousal standing proud. He crawled back on you, taking your knees and lodging himself between them.

Chrollo caressed your cheek, petting your hair. He lowered to give your forehead a tender kiss. “It’ll only hurt for a moment, (Y/N)”

Your eyes widened when you felt Hisoka’s length prodding at your entrance.

“W-wait,” you slurred, but he entered you gently, moaning at the warmth and slick coating him, beckoning him further into your depths.

You cried out as he went further inside until he was buried to the hilt. He keened in satisfaction, waiting a bit, and soaking up your walls’ sensation spasming around him.

“You’re so tight…so warm, mmm, it feels sooo good~” his hips started to slowly move.

Illumi, went behind Hisoka, kissing his neck and leaving marks all over. Meanwhile, Chrollo couldn’t have enough of your chest. Sucking and biting all he could, hands grabbing both your mounds and squeezing, decorating your skin in purples and reds. You mewled at all the sensations, eyes gleaming with unshed tears.

“Make her cum” Illumi whispered to Hisoka loud enough for you to hear. Hisoka grabbed your hips, speeding up, leaving you breathless, hips bucking, and meeting his thrusts.

“Mmmm, (Y/N)…I love that look in your eyes~” he moans thrusting even faster, your slick making it easier for him to slip in and out. Illumi went down where the two of you met and started to suck on your clit. You went crazy, the pleasure too much to contain it. “Arghh, she’s getting tighter…I can’t…” Hisoka moaned, burying himself deeper. One of his hands gripped your hip hard, surely to bruise, while the other held back Illumi’s hair as he sucked on you.

Suddenly the forming knot in your stomach tightened until hot white pleasure exploded through you. You squealed, liquids gushing around Hisoka, making his hips stutter, feeling your walls spams around him. He came, bursting inside you as your walls milked him for what his worth.

“Take it…Take it all~” Hisoka gasped, moaning breathlessly, his hips dragging out the orgasm.

Hisoka pulled out, making you mewl. The oversensitivity and tenderness were a bit too much. Through half-lidded eyes, you looked as Illumi took Hisoka’s spot, cleaning you up with his tongue. Chrollo stood and shed his coat on top of the vanity, his clothes joining the others on the floor. Illumi’s tongue swirled Hisoka’s cum and yours, lappin everything greedily, he then crawled on you kissing you roughly, making you taste the result of your joining. Your lips separated, leaving a strand of saliva connecting your mouths. With aggressive desperation he hugged you, pulling you flushed against his naked chest feeling how heated you'vemade him. Then you felt yourself being flipped over, Illumi under you.

Alarmed, you moved a bit, but Chrollo grabbed your hips, stilling you. He crawled over you, pulling your robe off of you and kissing your shoulder gently, his hands went softly down your spine giving you shivers. Illumi kissed and bit your neck, making you whimper as you felt his length prodding your entrance.

“It’ll be alright, just enjoy it,” He whispered, his monotone voice breathless as he guided himself into your slit. You mewled at the feeling, and he quietly gasped at your warmth.

Your eyes looked into his deathly ones, watching them swirl with different emotions. Yet, the main one being lust and adoration. His black hair fanning behind him gave him a mystical and beautiful look, he looked majestic, like some forest elf of sorts. You bit your lip holding back the moan. That’s when you felt a bite on your left butt cheek.

“Sorry, you look good enough to eat~” Hisoka drawled, and then you felt a finger prod your forbidden hole. You squealed, trying to writhe away, but it only made Illumi hiss in pleasure and grab your hips hard.

“Don’t tease me, (Y/N),” he groaned into your ear, biting down on your shoulder to muffle his moan, as your walls flustered around him.

“N-no, p-please. Not there,” you cried out, the feeling of his finger weird and alien to you.

“It’ll be alright, (Y/N)-Chan, we only want to make you feel good~.”

Hisoka was in front of you, lowering to your eye level, his yellow eyes lidded as he licked his lips and went in for a fevered kiss.

Illumi looking at the two of you kiss so wantonly, started moving his hips gently, biting his own lips at the display. Chrollo added another finger preparing you for him, the scissoring giving you chills. Yet, as Hisoka kissed you tasting himself in your tongue and lips, he distracted you from the prodding. He separated, panting heavily watching as some drool came down the corner of your lip.

He enjoyed your fucked out state.

Without warning, Chrollo entered the tip. It made your eyes widen to feel the burning sensation contrasting your skin with the coldness of fear. You gave a muffled screech, your walls closing on Illumi and making him unable to hold back the groan.

Chrollo slowly pushed inside until he was buried deep. He inhaled shakily, feeling you tighten around his intruding length. The feeling made him groan lowly.

Tears came rolling down your cheeks, you had never felt so full. In one night, the entirety of your virginity was lost.

Hisoka watched as the two men he liked the most, made sweet slow love to you, pulling adorable noises from your swollen and abused lips. He couldn’t help bit his own lip, looking at how they ruined you for the better. He loved the scene.

Chrollo dragged you away from Illumi. His face resting in the crook of your neck as Illumi’s hand grabbed your jiggling mounds, squeezing them and marveling at how they fit perfectly in his hands. You were made for them and only for them. Your body hasn’t known pleasure before, and you had clearly neglected yourself, you needed them as much as they craved you.

Hisoka came close to where you and Illumi met, his tongue coming out to lick his lips as his fingers came to rub on your hooded pearl, holding back the whine of pleasure. Everything was becoming too much. You convulsed a bit, the pleasure overwhelming you.

“She’s getting tighter,” Chrollo grunted, speeding his thrusts.

“Mmm, are you close, (Y/N)-Chan, hmm?” Hisoka got close to your face, his lips close to yours, teasing, “Are you going to cum on Illumi, like a good girl~? Milk them both for all they’re worth~?”

He kissed you, rubbing harder and faster, and you moaned into the kiss. He slipped his tongue in and sucked on yours, still tasting his arousal’s tanginess on you. That was the moment you became undone, your liquids squirting around Illumi. Both men thrust faster, almost competing with each other until Illumi came inside you, ropes of cum filling you up until he deemed it was enough.

Chrollo moaned lowly, biting your neck to muffle it as his cum shot into you, filling you on the other side.

Hisoka bit your lip and separated for air. Your eyes were almost closing, body shaking with the aftershocks of pleasure still rolling up and down your body. Chrollo pulled out, his cum dripping down the back of your thighs, making him lick his lips in satisfaction. Illumi pulled you abruptly towards him, making you land on his chest. Hisoka was surprised and annoyed that he couldn’t watch your tongue lolled out, and your lidded eyes look at him.

Illumi grab your face with both hands and brought you in for a passion-filled kiss. It was aggressive and possessive the way his lips pressed into yours until you both couldn’t breathe. He let you go, pulling out and laying you down on your side. Your body was tired, filled to the brim, marked, and pounded to their heart’s delight. Chrollo pulled a blanket over you as your eyes finally closed in exhaustion.

“Mmm, that was delightful. Our little fruit might not be as innocent as we thought~” Hisoka sat by you, caressing your cheek as you sleep.

“We should move her in the morning. She shouldn’t stay alone in the woods.” Illumi sat at the other side of the bed, calling out to the black fluff, making his way into the room.

“We shouldn’t forsake this place. It could be useful when we need a place to get away for some time” Chrollo put on his pants and dressed in his coat, leaving the shirt of out the equation as he leaned against the vanity.

“Mmm, vacations here with our darling pet should be divine~” Hisoka kissed you, making you snuggle cutely into your blanket. He warmly smiled at you. “Danchou, let’s keep her here. She doesn’t exist in the world, and our line of work is not the safest. She’s still hasn’t shown us her nen, but I’m afraid she’s not as developed as we are. She’s not ripe yet.”

“Hisoka is right. Bringing her with us will only endanger her. Illumi, can you persuade her to stay?”

Illumi sighed, going to his clothes and pulling out a single needle. He went to Hisoka’s side, his eyes looking down at you with warmth. He sat by your head, almost on Hisoka’s lap, the clown giving a suggestive buckle against Illumi’s back, making him annoyed.

Illumi caressed your face, pulling your locks away from your forehead.

“She won’t be able to leave the forest, without us or our consent. She’ll stay here as she has but will always expect us. The moment her mind thinks of leaving, she will have the most painful headache. The more she fights it, the worse it’ll get until she stops.”

Illumi then pulled you to face him. Your close eyes made you look so calm and sweet, and your puffy lips called out to him. He then pressed the tip of the nen infused needle to the middle of your forehead and pushed it in. You whimpered in your sleep, brows furrowing in pain and discomfort as the needle lodged inside your cranium. Then as quickly as the sting had come, it went away, leaving you blissfully unaware.

The three men then showered in your bathroom and slept all around you smothering with their heat until morning came. Arms clutching you possessively as if the minute they let go, you would fade away.

You woke up with a start. Heavily panting and looking around to see if you were alone. Maybe everything was a bad wet dream, and they hadn’t found you yet. Your first thought was to leave this place that you had constructed and built with sweat and tears. It pained you, but having them found you, was too much of a risk. So you turned, placing your feet on the floor and wincing at your lower region’s discomfort, in all the lower part of your body. You whimpered but made your way to the mirror on your vanity.

The sight almost made you scream.

Deep red and purple marks were littered all over your neck and chest. You brought your hand to cover your mouth as tears rolled down your cheeks. You looked down to see bite marks and bruises all over your stomach, hips, and thighs. You took your robe from the floor and put it on tightening the knot with shaky hands. You opened your bedroom door and quietly walked to the living room.

The embers of last night’s fire were still slightly lit; the windows were opened, letting in the fall breeze. But the place was empty, no well built handsome devils were in sight.

You sighed in relief. At least you were alone was once more, and they may never come back.

That’s when the front door opened, making you jump startled. You stayed in place watching as Hisoka came in carrying a hay woven basket with eggs, he took off his heels at the door placing them beside your shoes and looked up at your still form.

“Good morning, (Y/N)-Chan~” he brightly smiled at you, eyes closed in joy as he made his way to you. You didn’t move, baffled by what was going on. Hisoka placed a kiss on top of your head and went into the kitchen.

As soon as he left your space, Illumi came through the door, carrying your black cat in one arm and a bucket with water in his hand. He did the same as Hisoka putting his shoes beside his and the bucket near the kitchen. The black fluff jumped down his arms and trotted joyfully towards your legs, Illumi followed suit. He took your hand, kissing your forehead and bringing you into the kitchen. He pushed you gently to sit on the dining chair, and you winced a bit at the discomfort and slight pain.

Everything was tender.

“I’ll run you a warm bath,” his monotone voice and void swirling eyes gave you shivers, but his intentions were sweet. You nodded, still unsure of this picture, and he left you.

“I’ll make us some breakfast; you need to be strong if we want to have more fun~” Hisoka winked suggestively, and you hugged yourself unconsciously. “Now, now don’t be like that, darling.” he came closer with a spatula in hand, his big strong arms coming to cage you between the chair and him.

“I know you enjoyed it~” he gave you a peck on the lips and went back to cooking.

You looked at the door expecting Chrollo to join this weird play/reality show, but he didn’t come in. Curiosity got the better of you.

“Where’s...”

“Danchou? Hmm, he was busy and had to leave, but he left us to take care of you~”

“Is he...coming back?” You asked shyly, hating how you already missed the man or the fact that this domestic scene made you feel peaceful and right.

“Huh?” Hisoka looked at you, your shy demeanor let him know all you were thinking. He beamed with glee, you were already theirs. “He’ll be back tonight, maybe he’ll bring desserts~”

You hummed in response. Your eyes looked at the door, and a scheme came to mind. With Hisoka distracted and Illumi away, you could run. Run fast and not look back.

Your hands gripped the edge of the chair, and you almost took impulse to stand and go. Hisoka side-eyed you, his yellow eyes beaming with joy. You were such a fighter, he just wanted to ravish you now. The thought of you wanting to run made his pants tight.

“Do try it~” he said casually not even looking at you “I want to see how far you’ll get”

At that moment, Illumi came back, and you looked like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. He knew what you wanted to do, your intentions were clear in your eyes. It pained him a bit, but he knew you were acclimating still. He had to be patient.

You stood, and both men got ready. The tension could be cut with a knife. You looked at Illumi and went to him, seeming a bit defeated. He slightly let out a sigh in relief as he grabbed your hand and guided you into the hallway.

“Good girl,” Illumi said, pulling you inside the bathroom and closing the door behind him, snapping the lock to seal your fate.

#hisoka #hisoka x reader #hunter x hunter #illumi x y/n #illumi x you #hisoka x y/n #hisoka x chrollo #hisoka x illumi #fanfic #hisoka fanfiction #chrollo x you #chrollo x y/n #chrollo x reader #hunter xhunter #smut #yandere #ish #x reader #soulmate #soulmate au #possessive hisoka

[true-blue-megamind]

FAN THEORY THURSDAY: How Strong is Megamind?

As usual, this post contains information about the film’s plot.  So if, for some unaccountable reason, someone out there is reading this who still hasn’t seen this movie after ten years... hurry up!  You’re missing out!  And also, SPOILER WARNING!

If Megamind can be said to have a superpower, it would, of course, be his amazing intellect.  After all, he understood more about mechanics and engineering as a toddler than many human adults.  (You can read more about that in How Smart is Megamind.)  However, that may not be all that our favorite blue hero has going for him.

Of course, when we think about strong characters from the movie, the first one who comes to mind is Metro Man, followed closely by Titan, but, while Megamind may not be able to match their super-strength, I would contend that he is not a puny weakling either.  Here’s what I mean:

Megamind, admittedly, looks skinny and small, but it’s important to keep in mind that he is an extraterrestrial with a very different physiological makeup than the typical human.  This may, possibly, include musculature.  For all we know, by the standards of his race, Megamind may be a muscle-bound hulk.  In fact there is some evidence to support the idea that he is actually a lot stronger than he appears, and several fan theories have drawn from them to argue, quite convincingly, that the Blue Defender is, in fact, much more physically powerful than one might assume.

The first of these is simple.  Megamind was raised in prison.  Starting from a young age, he would have had to defend himself to avoid beatings, bullying, and worse.  Of course, as a young child, he presumably had the protection of the older inmates who, we see near the beginning of the film, took him under their proverbial wings.  Once he’d reached adulthood and become the feared supervillain of Metro City, his reputation would likely have been enough to keep him safe.  But what about between those two periods?  Minion, of course, might have been given such a large mechanical body in order to act sort of like a golem body guard, but the Criminal Genius and Master of All Villainy would have been too smart to have relied on that alone.  After all, what if Minion wasn’t jailed with him, as we see at the beginning of the film?  Adolescent Megamind would almost certainly have had to fight during his tenures in prison.

The second basis for the Megamind-Is-Stronger-Than-He-Looks fan theory is fairly obvious: he does things during the movie that require strength.  During the course of the narrative he picks Roxanne up three times: twice around the waist and once princess-style.  While Roxanne isn’t corpulent, she’s also not a skinny little waif, fans estimate that she is a US size medium, and therefore weighs around 130 or 150 pounds ( 70 kilograms.)  Megamind himself has a waist about one-third smaller than Roxanne’s, making him about the same size as a person wearing extra-small.  This means that, assuming his physiology is similar to a human’s, he’d only weigh about 110 or perhaps 120.  When he lifts Roxanne, he is picking up someone ten to forty pounds heavier than himself without straining.

Next, there is the simple fact that Megamind builds things.  While it’s true that he has the brainbots and even Minion to lift heavy objects for him, anyone who has ever worked on their own car (or any other machine) will tell you that turning wrenches all day long takes some physical power.  For Megamind to spend at least part of his days welding, hammering, and riveting, he would have to have a certain amount of strength.  Then there’s the fact that all of those metal body panels have to be produced.  While it’s likely that he’s built himself some sort of advanced 3D printer, metal presses, and similar devices, I think it has to be considered that at least part of the work would require more hands-on modifications.  Besides, this leads to a sort of “chicken or egg” argument.  He still would have had to build the metal fabrication equipment as, presumably, a supervillain can hardly call up a supplier and place an order.

Of course, there are also Megamind’s battles with Metro Man and Titan.  While we never actually see he and Metro Man fight, as the latter fakes his death near the beginning of the film, and we can speculate that the former hero of Metro City likely tried to avoid doing any serious harm, Megamind still would have needed the strength and endurance to take quite a beating.  Then, of course, there were his two battles with Titan, who certainly did not hold back.  It’s likely that Megamind has protective gear and energy shields-- I may write a post about fan theories concerning some of his creations next week-- he still would have had to be tough and physically fit to endure being thrown against a concrete wall by someone with super-human strength.  

Next, there is the brief scene when Megamind punches Titan.  Two things happen which indicate that the blue alien has some serious power behind his strikes: first, he moves Titan’s head with one punch-- no small feat when dealing with someone who is basically Superman gone wrong-- and, when he punches his enemy with the saw attached to one arm, the saw breaks.  Anyone’s first thought would be to give one-hundred percent of the credit for that to Titan’s super-strong, bulletproof capabilities, but think about it in terms of force.  If the saw broke before Megamind’s hand could, that means that the force of his blow would have to be greater than the tinsile strength of the metal.  That’s some serious pounds-per-square-inch pressure!

Exactly how much pressure are we talking about?  An article on J. Wood Science explains that, depending on the quality of metal, there are four grades of compressive strength among circular saws:  300, 600, 900, and 1,200 MPa (one-million Megapascal Pressure Units.)  To make life easier on my decidedly unmathematical English Major brain, I’m going to use the average of these four numbers, which would be 750 MPa.  That’s not a small number, trust me.  To put in in perspective, according to a second article on  Open Oregon, the highest-known compressive strength of a human femur is roughly 150 MPa, meaning an average circular saw can take five times more pressure than an ordinary Earthling’s leg bone. That’s going to become important in a moment because we’re about to imitate our favorite blue genius and dive into some calculations.

Thankfully, both are measured in Megapascal Pressure Units—with psi being 6,894.76 PA compared to MPa’s 1,000,000—meaning that psi can be calculated as MPa x 145.  This makes the pounds per square inch force needed to “equal,” for lack of a better term, the 750 MPa compressive strength of an average circular saw is a stunning 108,750 psi.

However, the edge of a blade is its weakest point, and the thinner the edge, the weaker the blade will be.  Because circular saws are, naturally, made for directional cutting —and thus focused on sharpness over strength—the edge, if struck directly, would likely offer a significantly lower MPa.  However, even if we reduce the MPa to a mere ten percent of the original number, that would still make the force needed to shatter the blade 10,875 psi.  If that sounds like a lot, it’s because it is.  The average power behind a human boxer’s punch is only 770 psi, making Megamind roughly fourteen times stronger than a fit, muscular human male.  Don’t challenge this guy to an arm wrestling match any time soon!

Finally, and briefly, Megamind’s attention to physical fitness is pseudo-canon.  In the comics, most of which are not considered canon but are (sort of) supported by DreamWorks, Megamind actually informs Roxanne that he works out.  He even indicates that, by the standard of his people, his physique is impressive, saying that he has to work to keep himself in such good shape.

So, there you have it.  The fan theory that Megamind is stronger than he appears has quite a lot of support from the movie and other sources.  Megamind’s intelligence is still certainly his greatest asset, but the blue hero isn’t all brain and no brawn.  In fact, it seems that he balances an incredible intellect with the ability to kick butt when necessary.  Clearly, with its new Defender protecting it, Metro City is in good hands!

#Megamind #Megamind movie #fan theory #fan theories #strong #strength #how strong is Megamind #Metro City #Roxanne #Metro Man #fans #fandom #physiology #physical #jail #prison #fight #fights #battle #battles

[pallasperilous]

Boneless Wings

 {AO3 version}

So, blah blah blah, it’s their standard-issue disaster: pack of dumbass witches (always with the dumbass witches. Where do they find the time for this shit? Somebody get these women signed up for a Peloton subscription or a macramé class or a vibrator of the month club, seriously, whatever it takes—), ancient curse, Castiel being the actual angel of stepping in it, nobody cares. 

The point is, two hundred and forty-one hours of binge-worthy drama later, Dean and Cas are living in a semi-detached just a short thirty-minute commute to somewhere equally lame, Castiel has two literal-ass wings, and yes, Susan, they kiss now. 

The neighbors are weirdly cool with it. 

For those of you perving along at home, Dean could absolutely provide a list of the hundred or so ways that having a boyfriend* with giant fucking actual wings is super hot and/or awesome.

This is not that list.

(*you can just shut right the fuck up , Sam, because it’s either this or Dean will start saying lover. And nobody needs that. Nobody wants that.)

1.  Bird mites. Holy shit. 

 2.  Sharing a bathroom. The shower curtain rod, and consequently the security deposit, are early casualties. The medicine cabinet follows swiftly behind. Shower hijinks are not even an option.

 3.  Dean comes home one day from a gig and there is a giant plastic green turtle in the backyard. A closer inspection reveals that the turtle is actually a mule for about half a truck bed of industrial dust ‘n grit. It is, in fact, a kiddie sandbox. Dean points out that they do not, in fact, have a small child (FINGERS CROSSED), so...?

Cas then earnestly shows him an entire playlist of exotic birdy dust bath videos on Youtube. 

Dean then earnestly shows him the garden hose. 

4.  The down just gets, like...everywhere. EVERYWHERE. How many times have Sam and Dean practically sold their kidneys for a single angel feather for some dumb spell to solve some pointless Occult McProblem? And now Dean is picking them out of his damn teeth every morning. (No, gross, not because of... Jesus, no, that is not a thing.)

On the upside of this one, Dean finally has an excuse to buy a Dyson, which he’s secretly always thought looked awesome. It is. 

 5.  When Dean is scraping out the umpteenth canister of fluff he jokingly suggests they use some of it to supplement the tragically flaccid down comforter currently shaming their bed, and Castiel pitches an existential fucking sulk. Dean wants to experience happiness again, so he does not point out that it get ass-bitingly cold here this time of year, and decent bedding is not exactly inexpensive, and the Dyson kind of maxed them out on household purchases.

But whatever.

 6.  Castiel is indulging in what Dean thinks of as a sky pout when he flies right into a head-on with li’l Timmy NextDoor’s new Christmas surveillance drone. It dings the shit out of one of Cas’s left primary feathers (the scientific term is “those big motherfuckers”), which apparently hurts like a bitch. Cas is grounded for a few weeks after that and is cutely pathetic about it and at first Dean is absolutely down to kiss it better. By the end, Dean is almost ready to strangle Cas with his own necktie, but he has learned a lot of surprisingly interesting stuff about ancient Mesopotamia, like that it was super horny.

 7.  After the snow melts, Dean starts finding shit on the front step with the morning paper. It’s not even a good newspaper; Cas signed them up for the local fish-wrapper (or maybe it was Sam, before he fled for the hills— he occasionally breaks out in a  “support local journalism” rash). The crossword puzzle is insulting, but the paper does at least syndicate Carolyn Hax, whom Dean secretly suspects of being an absolute wildcat in the sack, so he grudgingly expends the calories to bring it in every morning. 

Anyway, at first the stuff he discovers crapping up the welcome mat is just shiny bits of trash — couple granola wrappers, some MGD pull-tabs, a few field-stripped twisty-ties. Probably just windblown, and he tosses it in the garbage can. 

Then a couple weeks in, things start getting...grisly? It escalates real slowly, from a variety platter of mouse bits to squirrel à la power line and then half of a dry-aged raccoon and an opossum that has recently graduated from playing dead to professional dead-being. The neighborhood crows obviously love that their front step is now a roadkill café; Dean has to bat increasing numbers of them away with the kitchen broom in order to relocate their horrible snack to the edge of the nearest storm drain.

Then one morning there are like twenty crows and they’re in just the cutest little football huddle-up around what turns out to be a human fucking finger with a retro-fun mood ring still on the knuckle (it’s feeling: Sad) and Dean fully loses his shit. 

Cas hears him freaking out and comes whomping out of the garage ready to, whatever, flap somebody to death maybe, but as soon as he establishes that Dean doesn’t need anything more than a fresh pair of boxers, he de-poofs a bit and assesses the whole human finger/crows situation in his usual infuriatingly unrushed way. The crows had mostly bounced up to the cable line over the house, safely out of brooming range, but one by one they start to drop down and hippity-hop back towards the world’s tiniest crime scene.

If Dean were five percent less freaked he’d be tempted to go inside and find out how much of a dent he can make in a six-pack before Castiel finally dings and spits out his results, but he isn’t, so he just stands there in silence clutching the broom like it’s a shotgun.

Eventually Cas says “hm,” and then he looks at the crows and makes some noises that sound like a spoon caught in a garbage disposal, and the crows make some scrawps and chuks back, and then one of them delicately noodges the tip of dead finger with its beak and then hippity hops back a foot or two, bows, and then they all fly away over the shitty little beige duplex across the street like they’re running ten minutes late to an important bird appointment.

Castiel stands up (Dean reflexively backs up into the doorway, as this involves Cas bomfing out his wings a bit for ballast and Dean has caught a blow to the nuts on more than one occasion), dusts off his goddamn slacks, pulls a plastic evidence baggie out of thin goddamn air or maybe his socks, and casually bags the finger like they’re doing a standard FBI wheeze. “So what,” Dean says, as Cas diligently zips the baggie, “the fuck?”

“Oh,” Cas says, blinking in surprise that Dean is still there and interested, “they think I’m their god.”

Dean kind of stares back at him, the six feet of dude and like sixteen feet of bird, and thinks sure, okay, but his face must still be stuck on “Tippi Hedren attic scene” because Cas puts a reassuring hand on Dean’s shoulder and adds “Don’t worry. I’ve told them I don’t require further offerings, and I reassured them that you’re my consort and were simply jealous of other potential mates.”

It takes Dean two weeks to come up with a response to that, but by then it’s become evident that no bird is ever going to shit on the Impala again, so he decides to just chalk it up in the win column and move on.

You know. The family business.

8.  No matter how tightly he folds them, Cas can’t fit his wings through the definitely-not-up-to-code doorway of the wood-paneled family rec room in the basement, so Dean claims it as his man cave and dubs it the “No Fly Zone.” 

Castiel doesn’t find this funny, but Dean really only uses it to fold laundry. 

 9.  Transpo is an obvious issue. Cas can almost stuff himself into the Impala if he sort of reverse-cowgirls the back seat, but then the wingtips smoosh up against the windshield and Dean’s visibility is approximately zip. And, sure, Cas could fly himself anywhere they really needed to go, he’s basically a Chevy Of The Air, but sometimes it’s raining, and the seraph Castiel — Shield of God, Heavenly Soldier of the Lord, multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent, will smell like a wet fucking chicken for days afterward. Febreze does not help.

Dean spends a few nauseating weeks contemplating the purchase of — and here he learns that the human gag reflex can be conditioned, but never truly eradicated — a convertible. Once Cas brings up the possibility of a minivan or perhaps a station wagon (he’s taken to studying family motor vehicles with all the intensity of a birder with a life list) and Dean makes him sleep on the couch.

Dean gets his own living room rotation after he shows Cas a Craigslist posting for a very reasonably priced horse trailer. Castiel points out that it’s used and Dean notes that neither of them is exactly mint in original packaging either. Castiel points out that he’s not a horse, and after a few necessary but admittedly unoriginal jokes, Dean pulls up a website with an exhaustive photographic tutorial on how to convert a horse trailer “for the safe and sanitary transport of ostriches, emus, and/or cassowaries.” Cas points out that he’s not an ostrich, emu, and/or cassowary, and Dean counters that he clearly isn’t, because an emu would probably show a little more gratitude, and that’s how Dean learns that the couch has a broken spring under the left cushion. The transpo issue remains unresolved.

 10.  Dean keeps a pair of shop-grade safety goggles by his side of the bed. It’s not the sexiest look, but it turns out feathers are stabby as hell when encountered at a particular angle. Cas can do the healy thing, of course, but they learn the hard way that cornea perforation is not really a mood enhancer. On the bright side, Castiel accidentally corrects Dean’s incipient presbyopia, which means Dean doesn’t have to hold the newspaper at arm’s length anymore when he’s idly speculating what Carolyn Hax looks like below the neck. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.

 11.  You’d think that, when you’re coming down from a time-limited but incurable curse that makes you feel like every cell of your body has its own cute little individual headcold — because you missed a hex bag due to the fact that you were preparing your legal response to Sam turning up to the hunt wearing a goddamn hair scrunchy, as if he were fresh off the set of a very special episode of Clarissa Explains It All — anyway, you’d think that being wrapped in the warm embrace of an angel’s wings would be nice. 

But you would be wrong, because apparently your boyfriend has been out communing with the bees again, and those feathers pick up ragweed pollen like it’s their goddamn job, and guess what else angels can’t cure? Dean will take Motherfucking Seasonal Allergies for 600, Alex. 

12a.  One of the neighbors has that homesteading hippie brain disease that drives an otherwise normal-seeming person to brew their own beer and raise a bunch of chickens despite living within five hundred yards of a fully functioning Hy-Vee. There’s a week where one of the wee little velociraptors seems to be processing some kind of trauma because it starts yelling at dawn and keeps going until well past the hour that swearing is allowed on network TV. 

When Dean finally hammers on the front door the next afternoon the neighbor apologizes with some extremely nasty home-brew (HIPPIES) and some absolutely devastating weed (HIPPIES!) and explains that “Ginger is going through a rough molt” and then he kind of nods his head towards Dean’s side of the fence where Cas is futzing around in the squash plants and stage whispers (this is a direct quote) “You know how they get.”

Dean is about to rip the dude a new one for comparing his immortal space-kaiju lover to a fucking Australorp yard pullet when Castiel pops his head up over the white pickets and breezily contributes “Bad molt, yes, those are terrible, Dean can tell you all about how insufferable I am those weeks,” and sometimes Dean just doesn’t know why he even tries.

 12b.  The less said about angel molt, the better. 

Seriously, the freakin’ eyes-on-his-hands naked mole rat dude from, whatsit, Pan’s Labyrinth of Subtitles, would run screaming from this shit. 

 13.  There’s a 4th of July BBQ Potluck Block Party and Dean’s inability to stand idly by while good meat is abused ( shut up Sam ) means he winds up manning the grill and dismissing the pretenders to set some strictly inedible things on fire. Cas hangs out next to him and uses his flappers to kinda whupf the smoke away from Dean’s eyes now and then, which rules. It’s actually a pretty chill event until Sharon and Don From Number 4267, The Green House With The White Trim, turn up with a giant Pyrex full of naked, still-marinating teriyaki wings. 

Sharon And Don look down at their wings and then up at Castiel and then down at the wings and then up at Castiel and they are clearly teetering on the edge of a Midwestern politeness failure-based nervous breakdown. But then Cas, smooth as a margarine commercial, gently takes the dish from Sharon’s frozen hands, examines the contents for a silent moment, and says “it’s alright. They weren’t personal friends.”

He gets an extra burger for that one.

 14.  Cas keeps absent-mindedly trying to groom Dean — who, in case it still needs to be said at this point, possesses zero-point-zero feathers of his own — so he goes after Dean’s hair, instead. Dean has to stop him after his second hour of trying to straighten out a cowlick. “I don’t understand how you can steer properly with this deformity,” Cas says, as if it’s a genuine miracle that Dean isn’t constantly careening over ottomans like Dick Van Dyke. He’s even more horrified by Dean’s (frankly minimal) use of hair gel. “Jesus, Cas, it’s not like I’m drinking it,” he says, but then one time they have an epic make-out session shortly after Dean performs his masculine beauty rituals and there’s some smearage of various types of Product (tm) on the flappy areas. 

And, sonuvabitch, for the next six hours Cas is spirographing around the house like he has a heavenly inner ear infection, and he only stops veering into the doorframes after Dean wipes down every. Single. Feather. With mineral oil and about eighteen clean shop cloths. Dean switches to something called hair wax, which costs thirty zillion times more per ounce and makes him smell vaguely like church, but is a lot less gloppy. The things we do for love.

 15.  Seating inside the house is a bit of a conundrum, too. Cas can kind of flop his wings out to the sides if he sits in the middle of the couch, but then Dean’s stuck on the recliner, which is basically in the next county. Bar stools are disastrously tippy, Dean’s lower back and hips have not endured mumble-mumble years of hunting just to be subjected to a damn beanbag chair, and, after a brief flurry of optimistic excitement, Dean determines that they’d have to take the front door off to get a massage chair in. He finds a swing online that if, he can get the hardware properly installed in the crossbeam, is rated for up to 500 pounds, so he texts Cas the URL so he can check out the specs. After half an hour he writes back —

CASTIEL: Dean

CASTIEL: I believe this swing is intended for sexual congress.

DEAN: ...

CASTIEL: I can infer from the ellipsis that you have spent several minutes attempting to draft a response.

DEAN: ...

CASTIEL: Dean

DEAN: it’s multipurpose

  16 . On the plus side, though, big-ass wings make for a pretty good drying rack. He can get every sock in the house laid out on those suckers in a single round and, one episode of Dr. Sexy later, they’re perfectly dry and toasty warm, without any of the pair-busting casualties Dean has learned to expect from the apparently socknivorous dryer in the basement. 

Dean assumes it’s just the product of good air circulation and body heat until he realizes that he hasn’t had to toss a pair for being too worn out in...maybe six months? So he asks Cas “Are your wings... healing the socks” and after an entire Abbott and Costello routine centering around heal versus heel, Dean determines that the answer is: yes, his boyfriend’s wings are channeling the almighty power of Heaven to magically repair the socks Dean buys at Target in twelve-pack bags. On sale.

This is actually kind of sexy, if Dean is being perfectly honest, so, you know what? It doesn’t belong on this list.

 16.  So nobody really freaks out or bursts into tears or calls the news or the FBI or anything when Cas goes out in public with him, which Dean is secretly a little disappointed about, because come on. (Maybe giant wings just reads as a gay thing? Was there an episode of Will and Grace about this that Dean missed back when he was ass deep in wendigos or something?)

But no. Dudes tend to just glance at them across the Home Depot parking lot, throw them the Mutual Dude Acknowledgement Nod, and say some shit like “Comic-con,” or “nice anime” in a knowing tone. Then they go back to rolling their carts full of gaskets or hammers or whatever back to their mom’s station wagon. 

Little girls tend to go googly-eyed — Castiel seems to fall into the same category as a Disney princess, despite the stubble and the drabcore wardrobe, and Dean can’t count the number of times some mom has approached Dean at the grocery store (like he’s Castiel’s manager?? Which, okay...yeah, actually) and asked if they do birthday parties. The money would actually be pretty tempting if Dean weren’t five thousand percent sure that Cas would get them both arrested by launching into an anatomy lesson about duck sex or how God is a loser who favors relaxed fit jeans and Wild Turkey.

The worst is white ladies of a Certain Age, and it always seems to happen in the pudding aisle, for some reason. They either go cross-eyed with horniness and become indiscriminately handsy (Dean can’t blame them for the impulse, but also back off, Karen), or ask Cas for prayers for their cat’s chronic asshole problems (which Castiel WILL take seriously). 

Worst of all is when some hippie spinster clocks them. This woman inevitably reaches right for the feathers and asks in a willowy voice if they’d ever consider turning some of them into dreamcatchers to sell at her studio, which is literally always named The Faerie’s Glen. Then Cas gets confused about why, exactly, a sixty year-old WASP in a peasant skirt would need to call on the infant-protection powers of an Ojibwe spider goddess, while Dean just wants to bite the lady’s fingers off. 

Either way, it’s always a bad scene, and many fully loaded grocery carts have been lost to the fallout.

17.  For some metaphysical reason Dean is too dumb to suss out but also too smart to question, lugging a pair of Cessna-sized flappers around this mortal dimension actually seems to tucker Cas out. He doesn’t need to zonk out every night, but he semi-regularly throws in the towel and actually crawls in with Dean for the duration. 

This would be swell in theory, but the guy absolutely cannot settle the fuck down in less than three (3) human hours, which is the exact amount of sleep Dean requires to maintain his famously sunny demeanor. It’s not just ye olde tossing and turning — Dean can handle that, sharing a bed with Sam is like sleeping next to a kangaroo with restless leg syndrome — no, it’s a nonstop parade of little flippy-flappies and shiffle-shuffles and spontaneous outbursts of preening. 

So Dean makes him a Baby Sleep Sack. 

This is something Dean knows about due solely to one super dumb hunt involving a banishing sigil that had to be drawn in — he still feels like this had to be a misprint — human breastmilk, and that was obviously not happening. But the monster of the week wasn’t going to banish itself, so they wound up at the nearest Walmart, at 4am, picking up what turned about to be an unnecessarily generous supply of baby formula, along with a fresh box of shotgun shells because God bless America*. It doesn’t work, although “lots of stabbing” turns out to be a solid fallback plan, but the point is that while Sam was debating between Digestion Support or Neurological Development, Dean acquired an unprecedented familiarity with some of the products currently available to the sleep-deprived parent. So Dean finds some DIY Baby Sleep Sack knockoff patterns online and determines he can replicate and scale up the concept with some beach towels and duct tape, and the next morning he presents the lumpy but totally functional prototype to Castiel. 

Initially Cas thinks it’s a sex thing (reasonable, it probably is), but once they clear up that misunderstanding, he’s obviously a little peeved by the concept of being swaddled as if he were a gassy baby instead of a deathless sky monster in a sexy dude-shaped can. But Dean must be giving off some serious man on the edge vibes because Cas grudgingly agrees to let Dean tape him up the next time he’s feeling dozy. 

It’s real awkward and takes forever to get Cas bundled up right, and then he’s just kind of lying there on top of the sheets, like an enormous, grumpy baked potato. 

“I could easily break out of these restraints,” he says in a pissy tone after Dean has crawled in and turned off the light, and Dean rolls over to tell him “no shit”, but then he has to stop himself because the guy is already asleep.

Eventually they upgrade to a version made out of some of those trendy weighted blanket things, a few yards of parachute silk, and a whole lot of velcro. The dude looks so damn peaceful that Dean is honestly a little jealous.

*he doesn’t, actually. 

 18.  There’s a sunny afternoon that isn’t the usual Kansas is trying to murder you level of humid so Dean rolls the Impala out into the street for a wash. Cas helps him out a bit initially, although tragically not in a way that involves removing any unnecessary articles of clothing, but Deans sends him to grab a new tub of wax from the shed and he never comes back. After half an hour Dean needs a beer break and goes looking for him, expecting to find Cas lost in thought over whether Turtle Wax is made of actual turtles, or is made to put on actual turtles. Instead he finds Cas crouched on the shimmering pavement at the back of the driveway, sun beating down on him like it has a personal vendetta, and he’s got both wings stretched out real low above the ground. Dean kind of flips out because it’s the type of pose that just screams “stabbed in gut by angel blade” or “migraine from Hell, literally.”

Then Cas looks up, which pulls his wings up a smidge too, which in turn reveals that fully half a dozen neighborhood cats are lounging in the shady patch beneath his wings, spread out on the concrete like blobs of furry peanut butter. No, it’s actually eight cats. There are eight cats.

“Ling-Ling was feeling a little overheated,” Cas says, as if this explains everything. 

And, you know what, at this point, it does.

 19.  Dean has faith that eventually Sam or Cas or the third demon from the left in the second row will turn up a solution for the whole business. Castiel will get to tuck those bad boys back into the secret wing-closet dimension and he won’t have to worry about getting stuck in stairwells anymore, or being reported to the FAA (again). Then they can finally pack up the house, plaster over the more egregious spots of drywall damage, and go back to killing things outside of the tri-county area. The whole thing has been a pretty embarrassing interlude for a couple of dudes who’ve kicked Satan’s ass multiple times — Sam is probably telling other hunters that they’ve been deep undercover to take out a nest of suburban vampires, or a pack of ghouls with mortgages, instead of vacuuming angel down out of the AC unit and considering a Costco membership. 

And sure, there have been some...serious pluses to the situation (see: the other list), but, in his weaker moments, Dean has to admit that he’s kind of going to miss some of the goofy, irritating shit, too — like finding a six-inch feather in the veggie crisper (how? why?), or watching Cas fwap his wings out just in time to accidentally clothesline a jogger, or even the strangely compelling, sorta cheesy smell that starts to float around the house if Cas goes a little too long between hosedowns. 

He has actually grown fond of this shit. Which is 100% the least sexy thing on earth, it’s some genuinely, seriously pathetic goo goo crap, and that’s why nobody will ever hear a fucking word about it. People will ask “so what’s it like, with the wings” and Dean will waggle his eyebrows suggestively and review the highlight reel over an inadvisable amount of rail whiskey. His secret’s safe with, well. Him.

 20.  Seriously though, the bird mites. 

Gross.

#deancas #destiel #dean winchester #castiel #wingfic #or maybe... #wingsquick #spn fanfic #spn fanart #spn crack #sorry everybody #now with pictures! #pallasperilous art #pallasperilous fic #pallasperilous crack

[iamnightduchess]

Reiner & Mikasa: A Retrospective Pt. 1

Why their combined synergy is poetic in potentially saving Eren by the end of SnK?

(Disclaimer: This is purely an appreciation post for my two favorite characters, [BR]OTP-influenced but in no way disregarding any other characters’ importance in the series) **contains spoilers for recent manga chapters & Ep. 63 of AoT’s Final Season. Image heavy.

Ever since they were trainees, Eren has always looked up towards both Reiner and Mikasa, although he wasn’t willing to admit to the latter in front of her face directly. But, in a feeling of helplessness, he confided in Reiner. He aspired to be just like the two strongest people in his life at that point: Reiner and Mikasa.

They are the top two cadets of the 104th batch and are almost always evenly matched in the multiple times they’ve tried to take each other down if it wasn’t for Reiner’s stroke of luck and Mikasa’s hesitance. (Mikasa managed to force him out of his Titan form using her last Thunder Spear but wasn’t enough to kill him even when she said she wanted to)

(Oh yes, she & Levi gave him enough trauma for his PTSD and he has recurring nightmares of her. But he still respects them. Enemy to enemy. Enemy to ally.)

Yet together, there’s still a fighting chance for them to stop Eren because of their deep bond with him. (Armin is important too that ARM still has a huge role to play in the second wave of the final fight. Especially now that he’s realized OG Ymir’s role in all of this. I hope)

At this current timeline of the manga, we have reached the point where Reiner and Mikasa, the very two people that Eren looked up to, have to be the ones (amongst the few) who collectively work together to defeat him, who’s under the Founder Ymir’s influence & in a way, saving him from whatever hopeless vortex he is in.

I very much like to draw light to this short, quick exchange between Reiner & Mikasa on the plane heading towards Fort Salta’s direction. The above panel, which highlighted Reiner’s perspective and his empathy, says “The weight of that unimaginable power & burden would not be easy to endure and that IF he was the one who has the Founder, he’d want it to be handled by someone else and if he couldn’t handle that immense power, he’d want the power to be stopped.” Some fans claimed that Reiner was ‘projecting’ his own innate desire to die on Eren but Reiner has always been the opposite to Eren’s character. The other side of the same coin as Eren’s.

The below panel follows and it’s very interesting to note that if we look at Reiner’s gaze as he was speaking, indirectly Reiner is admitting that he’d want to be stopped by someone he knows could do exactly that and that person or his kryptonite is Mikasa. Ok, woman, this man’s weakness is you. It couldn’t get any direct than that rofl

Reiner was being very mindful (and respectful) of his implication as he is very aware on how delicate is Mikasa’s feelings when it comes to Eren. (Tbh, I also observe the unspoken understanding & mutual respect between these two) Eren’s her family & to directly call out to Mikasa to be more proactive in her actions would be inconsiderate of him despite the situation they’re in. Just like at the harbor, before the showdown with the Jeagerists, Reiner gave them the option to stay aside & not interfere, knowing full well he & the rest of the Marleyan survivors would be no different than headless chickens without the SC’s support. He didn’t force them, just like he didn’t impose his thoughts on Mikasa.

Then BOOM -- PATHS INTERMISSION. Brought to you by OG!Ymir through Young!Eren. Coincidentally, as if ‘someone’ out there wants to place weight on Reiner’s suggestion.

However, after the Paths intermission, that might just be the first wake up call to Mikasa. It’s also interesting that once again we are reminded that no matter how fast or how hard Mikasa tried to chase after Eren, she’ll never be able to get close to him. She gave him her world yet he kept moving forward & leave her behind, chasing after his shadows as he keeps going down a path that no one else can follow. I think it’s interesting that The Paths looped her back to Reiner

The horrified expression on Reiner’s face in the panel below somewhat tells me that he knew his earlier implications are not just him grasping desperately at straws but it feels like there’s the ‘human’ side of Eren, still untainted by Ymir’s will, like he believes, who secretly wants to be stopped. He understood how horrible it is for Mikasa, especially with the look of absolute shock on her face to finally have the awful truth confirmed. (At this point, Armin is already past the point of holding back & will do whatever necessary to rip Eren out of the Founding’s form)

I would like to take the time to share my appreciation of these rich panels of Mikasa working closely with Reiner’s Armored (together with the rest of course). Mikasa doesn’t tell her feelings verbally but she always shows it on her face.

Oh yes, right after the above panel, she had to get out of the way but her face below explains the anger and the rage she felt when she saw the Colossal took a bite out of the Armored’s nape & toss its body away like it’s just point blank garbage.

She was desperately worried that Armin was taken, but at Levi’s behest, she trusted Armin with his orders and they forced themselves to move forward. But one can see she was about to go apeshit when she saw what happened to Reiner & his Armored.

While Reiner & Jean were having a Titanic bro moment here, which is also pivotal in my opinion as Reiner, once again felt he finally belonged amongst people who genuinely care about him Survey Corps Suicide Squad yo even after what had happened between them. (It was a symbolical scene as well where Reiner has to let go of his old bro, Bertolt to move forward with his new bro, Jean.) Mikasa swooped in & kill the random Titan form that was about to make Reiner its lunch. Can’t blame them, that man is a delicious footlong sub. This woman ain’t gonna share haha crack humor, people! 

“If we fight, we win. If we lose, we die.”

Yes, the breaking point of one Mikasa Ackerman. This is a wholesome callback to Trost arc, the day before their graduation. When she found out that Eren died, she went apeshit & went on a “fuck this shit. i have nothing to lose anymore” mode. Jean, as usual, being the tough guy Jean, is angry that she’s putting her life on the line. Again.

But what’s interesting to me was the helpless look on Reiner’s face. He knows she’s super strong, he respects her so much for that & she’s buying them time and was more than willing to die first before everyone does BUT he can’t do much at that point because he’s at his last limit and Jean’s not letting his hand go either. Seriously, THIS is the woman you should marry, bro. She’s willing to die for you & everyone else. This woman is a damn keeper!

Although I am very sure, everyone’s ready to die for each other at this point.

Back to the original pondering: The Reiner & Mikasa saving Eren with/through Armin going directly against Ymir.

The Final Exhibition played a lot on this Eren vs Reiner with Mikasa being in the middle. Touched on this briefly before.

The Final Stand highlights the confrontation between The Founding/Attack against The Armored, with Mikasa being in the middle of the confrontation, tipping the scales of the outcome. Before, she assisted Eren against Reiner.

We are seeing her working together with Reiner to take Eren down right now. The definitive final question that would be answered soon was printed on the wall featuring Eren & Reiner’s exhibition panel:  “Who’s the one that will disappear from this world?”

I just hope that the right one(s) persevere. Reiner & Mikasa are going to Bonnie & Clyde/ Cloak & Dagger / Cyclops & Phoenix that shit out

Read on their characters compatibility in Part 2

#snk meta #snk opinions #reiner braun #mikasa ackerman #BROTP #ReiKasa #Retrospective #snk spoilers #snk 135 #snk final season #reiner x mikasa #snk #shingeki no kyojin #進撃の巨人 Attack on Titan #attack on titan #ship appreciation #aot

[caitsyoi]

I made a post about the Seraphites, so now I want to make one about the WLF. This post is mostly about the WLF's home base, aka the stadium and the area immediately around it. I've included some of my favorite pictures, and my thoughts and observations about where they live and their culture.

Under the cut again to keep things nice and clean.

I gotta say, this blew my mind when I first saw this as Abby. The WLF really have their shit together. Multiple power sources, a bunch of the resources FEDRA left behind, and multiple food sources. The field has cattle, sheep, and chickens plus some farming. On the steps they have even more areas for farming. They have a way to collect water, and even people to design and string up their logo everywhere.

It makes sense, supposedly thousands of people live here (you can't see it unless except via glitch, but there is also baseball stadium immediately next to this that they might also occupy).

We only see where Abby and other soldiers (perhaps squad leaders?) live. They have a pretty cushy life, two per luxury box (the rooms NFL teams overcharge for that run along the upper level of stadiums). Mel also mentions a special area for young families, I wouldn't be surprised if these areas were further divided. Perhaps there is also housing for larger families and single people who aren't soldiers or squad leaders. I very much wonder if those who join the military get better housing than those that work as farmers (or dishwashers, teachers, laundry washers, cooks, etc.). As mentioned earlier, Abby and Manny live in a luxury box, and there are 112 of those in the stadium this is based on. That's housing for 224 people, if they all live like the people in Abby's hallway. That would mean there has to be more housing in other parts of the stadium.

This stadium was once used by FEDRA, and you can see the concrete barriers they left behind along the edge of the field. They have to have more cattle than this, to feed all the people that supposedly live under the WLF. There is farmland around the stadium (more on that later), so maybe they mostly let them graze out there, then move some in when they plan on slaughtering them soon.

I love that they have wind turbines AND solar panels. You can see the influence that the Fireflies had on Issac and the WLF, they really focus on stability and restoring what was lost (at least when it comes to comfort). So they have electricity, sustainable food sources (and multiple kinds too), and a way to collect water (you can't see it in this shot, but they use a system similar to Jackson's, just on a much wider scale).

They teach a curriculum similar to what was taught to kids before the outbreak. We only see two classrooms, but from what I can tell they try to give the gives the type of education they could have received in the old days (as best they can, at least). Both the teachers you see are pretty young, which makes me wonder who taught them.

Most of the kinds you see in class are pretty young, like less than 10. These look a little order (they are outside the stadium in the market area, which I will talk about more a little later). I wonder how long WLF children are required to attend school (I think I saw a sign for 1st through 6th grade, so at least that?). I imagine they get a basic education with some broad looks into various topics, and maybe the ones most apt for study are selected to do specialized careers like teaching or meteorology. Other children are probably pushed into farming or the military portion of the WLF. Regardless of what they study, they probably also get a heavy dose of WLF propaganda. That aligns with how gung-ho many of them are to fight.

I wonder if military service is compulsory, like everyone has has to do at least so much time and then they can do other things if they want. Or maybe they make it so you don't have to fight if you don't want to, but those that do get better perks.

Most of the WLF you see appear to be in their 20's or 30's, or at least the fighters. That would mean they have spent most (if not all) of their lives under military rule, and they would have a special allegiance to the WLF since they manage things so much better than FEDRA did. Plus, you know, all that propaganda. I imagine they are told a lot about how the WLF is restoring society and how the WLF saved them from FEDRA/Scars/infected.

Sorta related, I thought of an WLF AU. Ellie grows up in Seattle under the WLF, perhaps with Riley and Dina and the other characters from canon. So many interesting things can be done with this, but that's for another post maybe.

This is one the cafeteria's the WLF use. I believe this is one of a few, although this is the only one you see. There is also a butcher and small market for clothing and items here too. They prepare food here, but I think the majority of cooking is done in an area set up for it in the stands.

They have posted meal times for groups A-F, and separate meal times for children and the late night patrol. So maybe this is the only cafeteria? Each end is blocked off, so maybe they use some of the corridor that circles the stadium for more living quarters.

This is also community space where they can play games, chat, or read. There also seems to be a mix of soldiers and other workers eating together, as well as young families (there is at least 1 or 2 women with young babies in here).

This little detail was super cute to me, but it also tells you a lot about WLF society. Everyone has a job to do, there is a role and place for everyone to contribute.

I'll talk more about this in another post (titled "It's Silly to Call a Post-apocalyptic Group 'Fascists', but Still the WLF Is Pretty Messed Up"), but an important thing to remember about the WLF is that everything comes down to Issac. He has the final say on everything, he makes all the major decisions, he picks squad leaders, he decides who needs to be punished, he's basically the Supreme Leader. Issac has been shown to be somewhat progressive with some things (you can follow whatever religion you want or none at all in the WLF, the WLF has no problem with LGBTQ people, you can get medical waivers for military duty, they provide support for pregnant women and parents, etc.), and in other ways he is very much the opposite (he punishes anyone who disagrees with him - this could be a relatively light punishment of a crappy assignment or it could be a beating, then there's the whole attempted genocide thing). Anyway, my point is that there are good things about the WLF, but also there is a serious darkside.

Anyway, when I saw this lady and her baby I immediately thought of Dina doing this with JJ while she gardens.

I absolutely loveeeee this little detail. A mural for the fallen. This really reminds me of some stuff you could see today, just replace the wolf with an eagle and make the uniforms camo.

There are 46ish names on this wall, so I wonder if it is continuously updated or if there are multiple murals, because they definitely have lost more people than that over the years. Also, there are about 150 people at the FOB (the amount of bodies at the FOB, yes I counted) that will need to be added. Maybe the war with the Seraphites just really exploded in the last few weeks (or maybe longer) leading up to Ellie's arrival.

I love that you can pause during the ride with Abby, Mel, and Manny to look around the outside of the stadium. Immediately outside there are train tracks and what appears to be a large market running along side of it. This is on the west side of the stadium, I believe. A major highway intersection is also nearby.

The market has all sorts of goods, food, gas, clothing, cleaning products, TVs and other electronics, records, and even more. I wonder if this is some sort of intake area for any goods they bring back to the base. But who runs these little shops? From some notes you can find we know their economy runs on trade, so how does this work?

Once you get past the market area, you see a pretty vast section of farmland. I loved this shot because it also shows one of their rain water storage areas. They mark this water as to be used only for irrigation, so they must use something else for people to drink and bathe with. Or maybe they just filter some water for people to use, and the rest goes to the plants.

In the background you can see the wall and a guard tower. There is a larger wall (like much larger, I'm talking maybe 5 stories) around the QZ, and a smaller one that runs around the stadium.

This is labeled "Checkpoint #4", so I'm not sure if that means there are other gates, but this is the only one we see in game.

The wall is pretty thick, and you can see these guard towers spaced out all alongside it (much like in Jackson). Once you leave the walls you are immediately surrounded by the wasteland that is post-apocalyptic Seattle.

#The amount of detail they put into this game is insane #I can see why it took so long to make #The WLF's base is probably my second favorite place outside of Jackson #But there isn't a lot of competition #WLF thesis stuff #I have spent way too much time thinking about this game #the last of us 2 #WLF

[gumnut-logic]

He struck the key but it came out flat. A frown and he yanked off his gloves. Should have taken them off before attempting the piano, but he had to do this before he lost the tune.

Bare fingers made it easier and he struck out the basic melody caught in his head. But it was only part of a tune, yet it was going around and around. An old memory, where the hell had it come from and what was it?

Grabbing a piece of paper, he scribbled down the notes he had managed to discover already.

“Virg, are you going to change out of your uniform? You stink.” Gordon wandered into the comms room from the kitchen with a plate piled high with leftovers. There was definitely some chicken and possibly some lasagna in that pile, he could smell it.

“Need to work this out first.” It was muttered distractedly. He honestly had to grab this before he lost it. It was a song, he was sure of it. It sat at the very edge of his memory and nagged him. He knew enough to know he didn’t have the tune right. But he had to get it right. It meant something. Something important.

They had attended an earthquake this morning and while hunting through the remains of a shopping mall, he had come across a section that still somehow had power. No doubt from the mostly intact solar panels that had collapsed along with the roof. Something electrical had survived and the music was still playing, albeit in loop and fragmented.

It had been both familiar and irritating. Now it was caught in his head and he was sure it was important. He had heard it before. He just couldn’t remember...

He struck the keys again, fingering it out. C, D, E, E, D, F, A, C, C.

Again.

Again.

Where had he heard this?

Again.

“Virg, are you going to keep playing that same bit over and over again?”

Again.

This is important. He knew he knew it, but from where?

Again.

His baldric rubbed against the piano stool, shifting it awkwardly across his body. His uniform was definitely not designed for piano playing.

Again.

“Virgil?”

Again. Damnit, he knew this.

Again.

What if he varied the speed?

Again.

F sharp?

Again.

“Virgil!”

Again. Damnit! Again. It was there. It was damn important. Why couldn’t he connect the dots?

Again.

Again.

Again.

“VIRGIL!”

He flinched and found Gordon in his face. “What?!”

“Do you have to do that?”

“Yes.”

“Can’t you play something else?”

“No, I need to work this out.”

“Can you work it out somewhere else?”

“No, Gordon. If I recall I was in here first. You were the one who decided to join me.”

“It is irritating as all hell. Part of a song over and over and over again. C’mon, bro. Play something else.”

“No! I need to work this out. It’s important.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know! Now, leave me alone. I have to work it out.”

He played it again.

And again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

“For god’s sake, Virgil, can you stop it please!”

“No!”

Again. It was so close. Just on the edge of memory.

“It’s like listening to Mom die over and over again. Virgil, please!”

Virgil froze, hands poised above the piano keys. “What?”

Gordon sighed. “It’s like that song that kid in the waiting room had playing too loud on his headphones, the day Mom died. Something about ‘teddy bear love’. I have no idea. All I know is that I avoid it like the plague and now you start playing something like it repetitively while I’m trying to eat my dinner after a damn long and sucky rescue. So, please, can I ask you to just stop?”

Virgil stared at him as the image formed in his mind. The stark white walls of the hospital waiting room. His arms full of a young Gordon, half asleep in his lap, Scott beside him on one side, John on the other. Alan curled up asleep in Scott’s arms. Dad and Grandma talking to a sober faced doctor.

And another family in the room, waiting and just as terrified. A young boy attempting to shut out the world with music, far too loud on his headphones, the tune drifting across the room.

Dad’s stony face trying to ignore the tears running down his cheeks as he told them that Mom wasn’t going to be coming home.

Something caught in Virgil’s throat. An old pain, a sharp pain, oh, god, he didn’t realise. Shit!

“Virgil?”

“I-I’m sorry, Gords. I’m....excuse me.” He stood up like a robot. His uniform creaked as he strode from the room.

-o-o-o-

Gordon stared after his brother and frowned. The man had paled, his eyes wide, as if...aw, hell.

He dropped the plate full of food onto the centre table, appetite suddenly gone, and closed his eyes. Did his brother honestly not remember that piece of music? Gordon would have thought with the man’s musical talent, his musical memory would be stronger than his.

Apparently not.

Or perhaps he had just blocked it out.

It had been a horrible time. Each of them affected in their own way. Virgil had been one of the stronger ones, reaching out to his brothers and supporting them when it got too much. Scott had been a champion, leading them through it all, picking up where Dad fell down. But Virgil had been the shoulder to cry on, the one the younger boys went to when it became too much.

Gordon couldn’t remember whether his second oldest brother had ever cried himself. He had always assumed that Scott had been the one to see to him.

But then Virgil had always been different.

He sighed.

Damn.

Standing up, he stretched out aching muscles and followed his brother from the room.

-o-o-o-

One of the advantages of living on an island was the many beaches. If there was a lack of a beach, there was plenty of oceanic cliff to sit on and gaze out into an infinity of water and sky.

It was evening after a long day and everything ached. Now those aches were joined by an old injury to his heart. His insides were a knotted twist of hurt. Old hurt. Stupid hurt. He should be over this.

But apparently, his gut felt differently.

How could he have not remembered? Now the memory was in place, the song came back to him clearly. It was a monotonous and repetitive composition. It had played over and over again, that boy desperate to shut the world out. Must have been his favourite song.

Virgil swallowed and a gust of wind caught his hair. His uniform made him impervious to the environment and for a moment he felt that restriction, that lack of contact. So standing on a cliff far above the ocean, Virgil Tracy shed his International Rescue uniform. His baldric fell to the rocks, followed by his blue jumpsuit and boots. Left in his black undershirt and shorts he shivered in the wind, but relished it. He yanked off his socks and his bare feet made contact with the rock beneath.

And for a moment he just stood there and closed his eyes.

The first tear fell before he even realised he was crying.

And once that was loose there was no stopping the others. Before he knew it, he was crouched on the rock bawling his eyes out. He had no idea where this had come from. No idea why now. Mom died years ago.

The mere thought brought another sob to the surface.

God, what the hell was wrong with him?

But then there were arms around him, holding him, gently rocking, muttering words of comfort. The arms were strong but smaller than his own and a vague sense registered that it was his brother Gordon who was witnessing this travesty, but he was beyond it. Beyond it all.

He found himself crying broken sobs on his little brother’s shoulder.

-o-o-o-

Gordon found his brother shedding his clothes on a cliff on the other side of the island. He didn’t approach immediately, quite frankly wondering what the hell Virgil was doing stripping down to his underwear out in the open. On a normal day, this would be perfect fodder for teasing the man. But this was not a normal day.

The moment Virgil started crying, Gordon’s heart broke.

What the hell was going on?

He wasn’t sure he had ever seen Virgil cry and here was the man curling in on himself, tears pouring down his cheeks.

Gordon didn’t hesitate. He ran up to his brother and wrapped his arms around him, holding the bigger man the best way he could. “C’mon, Virg, it’s okay. It happens.”

The man turned to him without looking him in the face and Gordon found himself holding his big brother as he sobbed on his shoulder.

“Virg, it’s okay. It’s okay.” He wasn’t good at this. He didn’t even know the cause so he had no idea how to make it all better. How could he fix this? He didn’t know, so he just held on.

He loved his brother. Virgil had been there for him all his life. That very night of his mother’s death, it had been Virgil who held him while he cried. While he tried to understand why his mommy would never be coming back.

All his brothers were supportive by nature. They were a very close knit family, but there had always been something about Virgil. Gordon had always looked up to him and Virgil had always acknowledged him, always looked after him. The man was very different to Gordon, but those differences made their relationship work.

Gordon ribbed his brother because that was a way to speak to the man. Other than work, they had little in common beside their familial connection. Gordon used teasing to reach out to Virgil, to lighten him up, to make him smile, and, yes, to make him groan. This was the man who held his life in his hands every time he dropped Module Four onto the ocean. The trust was there, the love was there, Gordon wanted to be there for his brother, too.

It didn’t usually involve holding him while he cried.

But that was life, so he’d do his best.

“C’mon, Virg, this is my favourite shirt. Tear stains are not groovy, man.”

Virgil didn’t answer, just drew in a shaky breath and straightened up. His eyes were wretched and red.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Sorry.” The familiar baritone was hardly there. His brother rubbed his face with both hands. “I don’t know where that came from.”

“Is this about Mom?”

And there it was. A flicker of hurt and the welling of further tears. The expression on Virgil’s face emanated pain and loss.

“I’m with you, Virg.” His own voice had dropped to whisper quiet. “Come here.” He gestured his brother to him.

Virgil stared.

“Aw, c’mon. I know I’m your kid brother. I know I’m younger than you. But I was there, too. It hurt. It still hurts. Sure, I didn’t know her as well as you and Scott, but she was still my mom. I still lost her just as you did.” He swallowed, his own emotions welling at the memories. “We may be grown men, but she was our mom, Virgil, and we have the right to mourn her. You have the right. So come here and give me a damn hug and we’ll work through this.”

Virgil’s eyes widened and it took him a moment, but he shifted closer a little, staring at Gordon the entire time.

Man, it was like enticing a walrus to eat from his hand. Except the walrus was easier.

In the end, Gordon closed the distance between them and wrapped his arm about his older brother’s shoulders. “Have you ever talked to anyone about Mom?”

Still staring, his brother shrugged. “Talked with Scott, you, all of you really.”

Gordon rolled his eyes. “Not about us and our feelings. About yours.”

“I did.”

“Bullshit.”

“Gordon-“

“All you’ve even said to me on the subject has been how I have been feeling.”

“Scott-“

“Should I contact him? What do you think his answer would be?”

“Gordon-“

This time he interrupted his brother by drawing him into a tight hug. It stifled whatever the man had been about to say. “Love you, bro.”

Virgil’s large hands crept around him and returned the embrace. Voice parched. “Love you, too.”

“She was our Mom, and we loved her.”

“We did.”

“It sucks that she was taken away.”

“It does.”

“I miss her.”

It took a moment, but the words were whispered into his shirt. “I miss her, too.”

After that, nothing more was said. It was just two brothers on a sea cliff holding each other.

Sometime later, Virgil drew in another shaky breath and straightened again, breaking off the hug. He wiped his face with one hand and shook himself a little. “Thank you, Gordon.”

A slight smile. “Any time, bro.” He reached out a hand and gripped the man’s considerable bicep. “Look after yourself.”

“Will do.” And Virgil was standing, grabbing his discarded uniform, shoving the socks and boots on his feet. A moment and he offered Gordon his hand to help him up.

Gordon took it and bounced to his feet. “So, do you always wear tight shorts under your uniform?”

Virgil frowned at him. “What?”

“I can see the attraction. They obviously show off your butt quite nicely and when those IR fans get their hands on you, you have to know that your underwear will live up to the hype.”

“Gordon!”

“What?”

Suddenly there was a meaty arm around him again and he was being drawn into yet another hug, this time crushed up against his taller brother’s massive chest. “Oh god, Virg!”

Virgil let off a laugh, his chest shaking with it. “I love you, bro. God, I do.”

And if there was a touch of noogie, Gordon didn’t care. He was too happy seeing his brother smile.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #Gordon Tracy #FishTank #nuttyfic reblog

[purrincess-chat]

A Hero’s Promise (Lucky Charm Zine)

This summer I was asked to pinch-hit for the @luckycharmzine and it was so much fun! Thank you to the mods for all of your hard work, and for letting me be apart of this experience! The theme was reveals, and seeing as they asked me in the middle of Ladrien June, ya girl just had to write some Ladrien (with a lil bit of Adrinette too because yall know me:P) Be sure you support the whole zine because it’s full of wonderfully talented people who created so much amazing content!

Summary:  When Marinette finds herself in a dire situation with Adrien, she has no choice but to transform and save them both. Will Adrien keep her secret, or will Marinette's identity be revealed for good?

Read on AO3

“Okay, girl, no chickening out this time,” Alya said.

The class had taken a field trip that afternoon, and as was customary any time the opportunity presented itself, Alya and Marinette had a plan to get closer to Adrien. It was a simple plan really, one that even Marinette couldn’t mess up. All she had to do was stand beside him on the tour and talk. Easy.

“What if I mix up my words again?” Marinette whispered as they trailed several paces behind Adrien and Nino.

“Just keep going. Adrien has heard you stammer a million times by now. Take deep breaths. I’m gonna distract Nino.” Alya patted Marinette’s cheeks before striding over to link her arm through her boyfriend’s. 

“Adrien, do you mind if I steal Nino for a while?” She asked, batting her eyelashes, and Marinette wished she had a fraction of her confidence.

“Not at all, Alya,” Adrien said, and Marinette saw her opening. 

She could do this. The field trip was only a couple hours, and if she played her cards right, he’d fall in love with her then one day they’d get married, have three kids and a hamster named-

“Adrikins!” Chloe cooed, shoving Marinette out of the way and latching onto his arm. “Look at my new manicure!”

“Uh, that’s great, Chlo,” he said, sounding every bit as unenthused as he looked. 

Marinette glanced at Alya who motioned for her to step in, but at her panicked expression, Alya slapped a palm to her forehead. She’d messed up and chickened out again. Maybe she should give up on love and move to the countryside and become a beekeeper. She could totally be a beekeeper. 

“Hey, Chloe, I think I saw Sabrina refilling your water bottle from the tap,” Alya called, and Chloe stopped in her tracks.

“She what?” Chloe gasped. “If she thinks I’m going to drink tap water, she has got another thing coming. Sabrina!”

As Chloe stormed off, Alya nodded toward Adrien, and Marinette took a deep breath. She could do this. It was only two hours and the rest of their lives. All she needed to do was just talk-

A loud crash sounded several floors above them, shaking the building, and Marinette braced herself as the windows shattered. As people ran screaming, Mlle. Bustier barked orders from the front of the line, urging students to safety. 

Marinette threw her head back with a sigh. Did Hawkmoth need to pick right now to create an akuma? Did he have a radar that went off every time she was about to make headway with Adrien? Nevertheless, duty called. 

Using the chaos as cover, she slipped away from the group and ran the other way toward the stairwell, but as it turned out, the stairs weren’t as private as she originally thought. Throwing open the door, she crashed into another person, toppling them both to the floor, and as she sat up, she found herself staring into two green eyes wincing under a mop of blond hair. 

“A-Adrien!” She jerked back several feet. “I’m so sorry! I was just, uh, trying to run away from the akuma, and-”

“It’s fine. You okay?” He asked, offering a hand to help her up. Always the gentleman even if she did completely knock him over and ram her head into his chin. 

“Yeah, you?” She asked, and he rubbed his jaw with a shrug.

“I’ve had worse,” he said. “We should probably get out of here.”

“Uh, right. We should,” Marinette said, sparing a glance at her purse. 

They jumped at the loud crash in the hall, but both stood frozen on the platform. Marinette needed to get away and transform, but she didn’t have a viable excuse to ditch Adrien. Luckily for her, he took the lead, tugging her down to the next level.

“We can hide out until the akuma passes then make our escape,” he said, ducking into the door one flight below. 

“Uh, right,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t betray her lack of enthusiasm. 

She glanced around the room, searching the rows of cubicles for any means of escape. Never in her life did she think she’d be desperate to get away from Adrien, but now wasn’t the time for snuggling. Paris needed Ladybug, so her love life would have to wait. 

Large windows spanned the far side of the room. Several had shattered from whatever attack the akuma launched, and hanging just on the other side was their ticket out of there. 

“Look!” She tugged his sleeve. “A window washer’s scaffold. We can get down with that.”

“Whoa, good thinking, Marinette,” he said, rushing over and clearing away broken shards with his foot. 

He climbed in first then offered her a hand, and she tried not to think about how much hand-holding this excursion had come with. She hit the button on the control panel, breath hitching as it started to lower. Freedom was only a few minutes away, that is, until a desk flew through a window and sliced the wires. 

Adrien pulled her close as they dropped six stories before the scaffold jerked to a stop, and they flung apart, scrambling to right themselves as it swung. They were still ten stories up, but from the looks of the wires, they weren’t going to be for much longer. 

“Are you okay?” Adrien asked, attempting to reach for her, but the scaffold shook and rocked.

“Don’t move!” She gasped, shifting her weight to counteract his. “We need to figure out a way down.”

“Maybe we should just wait for Ladybug,” Adrien suggested, and she glanced down at her purse with a wince.

“I don’t think we’ve got time,” she said, nodding at the fraying wire. 

“What are we going to do?” He asked.

Marinette surveyed their surroundings, searching for anything to add time or get them out safely, but their options were slim. Any sudden movement would likely send them plummeting to the ground, and even if they did nothing, it wasn’t long before the scaffold gave out under their weight. There was only one way out, and she didn’t have another choice.

The scaffold groaned, and Marinette lunged at Adrien as the wire snapped, wrapping her arms around his waist as her suit materialized. Her yoyo hooked around a beam as the scaffold crashed to the ground. When she glanced back at Adrien, his eyes were wide which was only natural seeing as she’d inadvertently told him the most important secret in the world. 

“You’re-”

“I know,” she said, lowering them to safety. “And you can’t tell anyone.”

“No, yeah, sure, but you’re really her?” He looked her up and down with awe. 

“Uh, yeah,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “No one should know who I really am, but we didn’t have another choice. I’m trusting you, Adrien.”

His gaze found hers, a soft smile curling on his lips. “I won’t tell anyone. Your secret is safe with me. Promise.”

Her cheeks warmed, but there was no time for flirting. She palmed her yoyo, taking a few steps back. “Find somewhere safe to hide, okay?”

“Ladybug, wait!” He called as she tossed her yoyo up the street, and she turned over her shoulder. “Uh, I- come by my house later.”

“Okay,” she said, and when he nodded her on, she tugged the slack and shot off. 

Chat Noir arrived on the scene the same time she did, and she hoped that her expression didn’t betray her guilt. There wasn’t another option. It was a fact she repeated to herself that day as they captured the akuma. As the city returned to normal. As she and Adrien exchanged curt nods on the bus, her secret passing unspoken between them.

She wasn’t sure how to feel knowing that someone knew her identity now, or that this particular someone knew her identity. Of course it was dangerous and wrong, and it never should have happened, but she did her best to see the positives. She finally had someone other than Tikki to tell about her double life. Even better that someone was the boy she was in love with which gave her more excuses to talk to him, and being a superhero didn’t exactly hurt her chances at impressing him either. A little late-night tour of the city from the rooftops and-

What was she thinking? This was bad! Adrien knew her identity. Should she go into hiding? Stop being Ladybug? Maybe she could make Chat Noir the new guardian and lose all of her memories. But what if the new Ladybug failed, and she had no memories to help stop Hawkmoth then it would be all her fault for exposing herself, and Paris would be doomed and-

“You okay, girl?” Alya snapped her out of a downward spiral, and she removed her nubs of fingernails from her mouth.

“Uh, yeah, just thinking about how I messed up with Adrien earlier,” she said, plastering on a smile.

“Aww, don’t worry. You’ll get him next time,” Alya said, draping an arm over her shoulder, and Marinette let out a breath. 

“Yeah…”

***

Adrien’s window was open when she arrived later that night, her stomach churning as she hesitantly lowered into view. He paced the length of his couch, looking up when she appeared. Their eyes locked, both staring until Ladybug gestured to the floor.

“Can I come in?” She asked, and he nodded, moving around the couch to meet her. 

Silence stretched between them, and Ladybug drummed her fingers on her yoyo, heart threatening to beat out of her chest as Adrien ran a hand over the back of his neck. What exactly did one say in this situation? Should she play it cool? Crack a joke? Beg him not to tell anyone? There wasn’t exactly a training course on what to do if you expose your secret identity. 

“Um,” he finally managed, and her eyes flicked up to his. “Thank you for saving me earlier.”

“Oh, yeah, no problem,” she said. “I mean, after all, it is my job.”

“Right, of course.” Adrien nodded, and the silence resumed. They both shifted, the tension between them stretching until the pressure snapped like a rubber band. Words spilled out like rapids, one stream overlapping the other.

“Listen, I know that we can’t undo what happened, and I know that you won’t tell anyone because you’re so trustworthy and cute-- wait did I say that out loud?” Ladybug said as Adrien rambled just as awkwardly.

“I’m really sorry that you had to tell me your identity like that, and I promise not to tell anyone. I’d never betray you like that ever, and I feel really bad that you had to be the one to reveal your identity,” Adrien said, their words mixing until they both clamped hands over their mouths. 

Adrien pressed his lips together, determination glinting in his green eyes. 

“I feel like it’s only fair that I tell you because it’s important to me that you know you can always trust me,” he said, taking a step forward. “You weren’t the only one who could have gotten us out of that situation. In another couple seconds, I would have transformed to save us both too.” Lifting her hand to his lips, he continued, “I’m sorry, m’lady. I guess now the cat’s out of the bag.”

“But- you-” A devilish smile curled on his lips, and as the two halves of his persona clicked together, Ladybug threw her arms around his neck. “It’s you.”

“I’m really sorry, bugaboo,” he murmured against her shoulder. “I should have acted sooner.”

“Even if you had, I would have known your identity. There was no way around it,” she said, pulling away. “We can’t change what happened, but we do need to talk about what to do now. Knowing our identities while Hawkmoth is still out there is dangerous. If one of us gets akumatized…”

“I know,” Adrien said, lowering his gaze. “This isn’t exactly what I was expecting when I dreamed of finding out who you really are. I hoped that I’d single handedly take down Hawkmoth and impress you so much you’d fall in love with me.”

She smiled at that, brushing his nose with her finger. “What should we do? Should we stop being Ladybug and Chat Noir?”

“What? No!” His eyes widened in horror. “Look, there’s no one I trust more than you, and I think we make a pretty awesome team. Besides, who knows, maybe this is for the best. Maybe we’ll be stronger and more united. We can have each other’s backs all the time.”

When she didn’t seem convinced, he added, “We’re the cat and bug team, remember?” He said, and at her stern expression, he corrected, “Fine, the bug and cat team.”

“Okay,” she said, taking a breath. “I trust you, and we both agreed when we took on our Miraculouses to keep the city safe. We can’t turn back on that promise now.”

“You and me against the world?” Adrien said, holding out a fist. 

Ladybug looked him up and down, a smile curling on her lips as she touched her fist to his.

“As always.”

#miraculous ladybug #ladrien #adrinette #adrien agreste #marinette dupain-cheng #lucky charm zine #my writing #hiatus cat #reveal fic

[zkfanworkweek]

ZFAW Content Creator Interviews: OwedBetter

Hey everyone! We hope you’re all excited for ZFAW, and to honor (ha!) ZFAW’s commitment to supporting and celebrating fan content creators in the Zutara fandom, we’re going to be rolling out a series of interviews with well-known and widely-beloved content creators over the next few weeks. We’ve got artists and fanfiction authors, some names you recognize as well as a few phenomenal up-and-coming talents, and we can’t wait for you to meet them all!

I’m super excited about this one! For the sixth (incredibly delayed, I’M SORRY) interview in the cycle, we have Jo, aka @owedbetter. Best known for the absolutely iconic Zutara fanfiction “I’m Still Here,” Jo’s works can be found at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12312357/chapters/27990618

Tell us about how you came to ship Zutara. What does this ship mean to you?

To use one of my favourite lines from Jane Austen, "I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun." I started watching Avatar: The Last Airbender when I was just a tiny little baby child at 10 turning 11 years old. I do know for a fact, however, that Zutara had simply always been it for me from the very beginning. I believe it was during "The Storm" that I just knew that there was more to Zuko than what was at surface level. As a brown girl trying to make her way into positions of leadership as a child, Katara's strength, rage, and bravery paved the way for me to survive in the way I have. As a survivor of child abuse myself, Zuko remaining kind and gentle and good was of paramount importance. Together, they were the joining of two souls that met in conflict and chaos but through merit, equal standing, and forgiveness, they were exactly what each other needed. They are not opposites nor two halves of a whole; they are the sky and between them is only the world. Everyone has the need to feel truly seen and understood as they are by another, and Zuko and Katara do exactly that. Other stories come and go, but they're the story I come back to and will continue to call home every single time. I will never tire of them.

2. What inspires you to create Zutara fanworks?

 I've been a professional writer for the last ten years. It's my job to imagine and create stories. I also love consuming stories through every medium possible. The well never dries when you keep it full to the brim. When you do the work I do and you consume as many stories as I do and you've lived a long enough life and paid attention to the life around you as I have trained to do, to be inspired is second nature. For Zutara, however, these are voices that have lived in my brain for fifteen years. When I get an idea for a story, literally any story, it's like my subconscious is naturally attuned to their dynamic that every prompt I come up with is automatically a Zutara prompt. Such is the way. If I ever publish a novel and/or lead my own show/movie, you can bet that it's probably Zutara if you squint.

3. Be selfish - if you could request one fanwork based on your own art/fanfic, what would it be? What would you absolutely love to see someone create? 

To this day, "i'm still here" is probably the single greatest thing I've ever done in my whole stupid life. It would be the greatest honour to see my work interpreted visually. Genuinely, I'd love to see certain scenes as comic panels or something. Katara's realisation at the beach over who she is and she thinks about Yue, her mother, and her grandmother. Zuko and Katara's mutual understanding. The scene that started it all: baby Zuko taking care of baby Azula at the beach. Katara and Iroh talking in Chapter 7. Toph meeting fear for the first time. The entire ending of Chapter 6. As of writing this, I haven't updated the sequel yet but I would love to see visual interpretations of incoming Original Characters because they've been fun to create. I don't even know. If anyone wants to draw something from "i'm still here", I would like to see it. Please let me see it. I will cry. But also, I would like to see visual interpretation of Zutara in my modern quarantine pandemic AU because I would like to see long haired 28 year old Zuko wearing autumn-wear in a public park filled with flowers with 26 year old Katara basically wearing anything I wear because I am projecting in that story for a reason. 

4. Any words for people who are new to the fandom and/or nervous about sharing their work for the first time?Buddy, we're all just a bunch of nerds who are creating things for our enjoyment and the enjoyment of likeminded individuals. Do things for you and because they bring you joy, first and foremost. Everything else can be ignored if you want to ignore it. You're doing great. 

5. What is your favorite Zutara-related thing you’ve made and why is it special to you?

 Again, "i'm still here" is literally the greatest thing I've ever done in my life. Something I get commended for a fair amount with ISH is how I handled Zuko being a child abuse survivor, and his conflicting emotions with his violent abusers because he's still a child who wants his family to love him. That comes from an extremely personal place for me and it means the world to know that other survivors out there resonated so well with it. Also, Masterchef Zuko with that chicken adobo meant me getting a LOT of people saying they tried out the recipe themselves and I can feel my grandmother radiate with pride over knowing I'm so great a cook that I can convince people to want my dish just by writing about it. I'm so proud of everything I did with ISH. I worked really hard on it and I'm so happy to know it means a lot to other people too. 

6. What’s an idea for a fanwork that you have but haven’t gotten around to making?

I have this one modern AU involving dogs that I've put on the backburner since 2017. One day... one day!!! I'm a bit of a workaholic, though, so most of the things I want to do, I just do 'em. 

7. Are you participating in ZFAW? If so, want to give us a hint as to your plans? 👀

I am! I have a draft ready based on one of Hayley Foster's animatics and I'm very excited. Tumblr user hayleynfoster, I owe you my entire life. 

#zfaw #zutara fanworks appreciation week #interviews #zutara #owedbetter

[obaby-me]

Your writing's really good! (~^-^)~* Can I get strong MC carrying their demon around bridal style?? (just an idea but imagine Levi being carried by MC in his favorite male character/ruri's cosplay :o, and for Belphie, maybe, him falling asleep during movie night or smth and MC just casually scooping him up to get him to his room?? For Mammon maybe rescuing him and running away from witches?) but u can think of smth by yourself ^^ can't wait :D

Thank you for the compliment anon. ♡

Manhandle the boys?  I got ya covered.  You had some great ideas, by the way.  These turned into basically mini-stories.

Lucifer

“Chicken fight?” Diavolo asked you with a glint in his eye, always eager to learn more of the human world.

“It’s a pool game, where two people carry two other people and try to push the carried person off their person.”  You explained, or rather tried to.  Even for a mostly sober Lucifer, the explanation was a mess.  A tipsy Diavolo found it impossible.

“Show me,” Diavolo asked. “Just show me.”

“It takes a minimum of 4 to play.  And it’s done in a pool.”  You laughed.

“You can’t do it outside of a pool?”  Diavolo whined with a frown.

Never wanting to disappoint, you quietly considered it.  “I mean…” Your eyes travelled to Lucifer, lighting up in a way the Avatar of Pride knew meant trouble.  But with a shake of his head, knowing what was to come, he stood from his seat, and rotated his shoulders.  Carrying you would be a simple task for him.

“If you can lift Barbatos, and I lift Lucifer, we could do a little demonstration.  But we can’t actually play.  Without the water it’s like, dangerous.”  You suggest.

“Lift me?”  Scoffed Lucifer, looking a little incredulous, while a delighted Diavolo barked out a laugh.

“Okay!”  The prince agreed enthusiastically.  His gold eyes flitting to the avatar of pride giving a silent, mortifying, order that sealed Lucifer’s fate.

Groaning into his drink, Lucifer quickly chugged down the last of his drink.  You kneeled down to the floor, and Diavolo followed suit, as you instructed Barbatos how to climb on to Diavolo’s back.

“Like this?”

“Yes!”  You nodded happily.  “Lucifer, your turn!  Hop on.”

The word no sat on his tongue but Diavolo’s expecting gaze wouldn’t allow for the word to pass his lips.  “Perhaps I ought to be the one to—”

Suddenly one of his legs was yanked out from under him as you swung it over one side of you.  You made no move to grab the other.  “Stop worrying.  I can lift you easy!”  You assured him with a cocky grin.

“I don’t know—”

When you ignored his protests and attempted shift yourself between his legs to grip the remaining foot tethering him to the ground, in fear of losing his balance, Lucifer finally complied.  He threw his leg over your shoulder, gripping on to your head and wrapping his thighs about your neck.  He shot a glare at his liege.  If you broke your neck, he refused to be held responsible.

To his surprise however, you stood straight up with ease, balancing him on your shoulders.  He was rather impressed.  Though that was sort of overridden by his unease at the sudden lack of control he had by being on your shoulders.

“Okay, now in a pool, Barbatos and Lucifer would have to shove each other off.”

A look of determination flashed across Diavolo’s face, and it took all three, Lucifer, Barbatos, and you to reiterate that this was not a game that could be played outside of the water.

Mammon

The witches call at the most inconvenient times.  But Mammon knows he must answer.

“I’m sorry,” he grumbled in apology to you as he dropped the shopping bags he’d been carrying into your arms.  “I’ll be right back,” he promised.

“Should we call someone first before you go?”  You asked, waving a hand at the plaza that surrounded you filled with demons.   Eyes flickered towards you occasionally, however they quickly averting upon recognizing the Lord of Greed.

He didn’t have time, but he also knew you were right.  Groaning and grumbling he texted a request to his brother’s chat for someone to come and get you.

But there was no immediate response.  Calls to several of the brothers also went unanswered—even when you made the calls.  Mammon grew impatient—because he knew the witches were too.

“Looks like I’ll just have to take ya with me,” he sighed.  “Ground rules, first.”  Looking serious and he holds his fingers up, “Don’t say anything,” he begins, dropping one finger. “Don’t touch anything.  Anything I say, ya agree with.  Anything I tell you to do, you do—no questions.  If I say run, run.”

You looked nervous—as you should be, so was he.  It was a bad idea to take you.  But it’s a worse idea to leave you alone.

Seeing the witches generally made Mammon a little queasy—but he can handle anything they throw at him. It’s you he worries about.

“Got it.”

“Don’t you worry, human. The GREAT Mammon won’t let anything happen you,” he said with a grin, trying to rid you of your worries.  You give him a small smile in return and he throws an arm around your shoulder as he begins to lead you away.

Meeting with witches didn’t seem to terrify you as they invited the two of you in for tea and treats. Mammon however, declined for the two of you, getting right to the point of their requests.  They made their demands rather politely, but the undertones of a threat obviously present.

The nature of their demands however, no matter how honeyed the language, were insane.  Limos, and dresses, and jewelry, and tools used by witches, made of luxury woods and metals.

“There’s no way I can get all this!”  Mammon shouted as he estimated the total.

“You can, and you will. We trust you’ll find a way,” one of them said sternly.

Another slid herself to your side, an arm drifting to wrap about your waist.  “And while you do so, we’ll just enjoy some tea with—”

“Don’t you touch my human,” hissed Mammon.  His eye flit to you, a dangerous glint in them, and he nods his head to the door in a silent order.

“Don’t you talk that way to us,” another witch hissed in return.

“Your pact is with me, not—” Mammon started to argue in return.

“Yes, it is.”  One witch calmly stated, “and by our pact, I order you to—”

Before her order could be completed, she was thrown back, the literal rug ripped out from under her. Mammon’s eyes widened and turned to see the edge of the floormat sitting in your hands.

“Time to go,” you told him.

Suddenly laid out over your shoulder, hefted about like a sack of potatoes as you ran the two of you of the building.

Mammon wasn’t sure how to feel.  He was surprised, that was for sure.  Thankful to some degree, but humiliated as well—for being the one in need of saving, for the way he was being carried (ass up).  And though he dared not admit, turned on.  He could only hope you were too busy running the two of you out of trouble to notice him at half-mast.

Leviathan

A convention has come to the Devildom and ecstatic was a massive understatement.  When the convention was announced months back, Levi was already including it in every conversation somehow.  As the weeks grew closer, his fanaticism was getting so out of control Lucifer banned him from bringing it up in the group chat, the dining table, and specifically, in Lucifer’s presence.

“Today’s the day!” Shouted Levi, as was his morning ritual of the countdown.  While he was not technically in the dining room, everyone could hear him from his room. Annoyed but relieved that finally the day had come that perhaps he’d finally shut up about it, the brothers gave a sigh of relief.

“Come on, come on, Normie!” He pounded at your door.  “We have a very strict schedule to keep!”

“Levi, you sound like Lucifer.  Give me some time to get dressed!  Honestly, if you’re this excited you might accidentally transform.”  You scolded him with laughter dancing behind your door—still refusing him entry to drag you out.  “It’ll ruin your cosplay if you do you know.  Have you even gotten changed yet?”

“I will once we eat breakfast.  I don’t want anything to get stained.  And you shouldn’t either!  Come on out!”

“Levi, I’m already half into the costume.  You want me to come out there half naked?”

Levi blushed at the thought. “N-no!  Just take it off, normie.  Get changed after!  We need a perfect picture together as Henry and the Lord of Shadows!  And we can’t have one if you’ve got food all over it.”

He heard you sigh and grumble, but he knew he was getting his way.  You had been supportive of all his enthusiasm, despite the numerous reprimanding your received from his brothers for “encouraging” and “enabling” his behavior.  You always had his back, just like Henry.

Why, you even agreed to cosplay as his Henry to his Lord of Shadows!  He thought he was having the most blissful heart attack when you suggested it.  You suggested to be his Henry.  

He could hardly wait to see you dressed, but the reveal was something he would savor, dressed in his own costume.  And it would be worth it.  Additionally, once he got his picture of the two of you in your perfectly pristine cosplays, he would be posting it and using it everywhere.  As his profile pictures, in his icons, framed in his room. He had it all planned out.

He rushed you through breakfast, through packing, and through the door.  But you took it all with a smile.  He knew you weren’t as excited about the convention as he was, but the fact that you had the patience to put up with him on this day meant the world to him. He’d already put some Grimm aside to buy you whatever you wanted at the convention as a gift of thanks.

The line was agonizingly long, even with his pre-purchased pass, and changing into your cosplays in your shared hotel room took a while more than expected.  He missed an early morning panel and went hysterical.

“Levi, you’ll ruin your cosplay if you transform,” you warn him again from the bathroom as you adjusted make up on your face to get some details just perfect for your Henry imitation.

“We should have gotten here sooner!”  He complained.  “We should have-“

“Levi, I’m ready.” You called out, interrupting him before he could rant any further.

He swallowed hard, eager to see the result.

You looked perfect.

“Well?”  You asked as you gave a small twirl for him to let him see it in whole.

“Every detail i-is, is—” His heart raced, his face reddened. It was not that your outfit was revealing, but you were cute.  You were really cute.  You were cute and in cosplay with him, for him.  It was just an outfit, but the implications hit him like a ton of bricks. He was overwhelmed, practically in tears.  Too overwhelmed, really.

He passed right out.

When he finally woke up, he realized he was slung over your back, carried through the convention halls. “W-what is happening?”  He screeched in embarrassment into your ear.

You faltered and nearly dropped him.  Quickly you adjusted him, bouncing him with your grip on thighs to get him balanced properly against you again.  “Don’t shout,” you hissed your ear ringing painfully.

“The next panel was about to start and I couldn’t let you to miss it.”  You explained as you trudged along to your next destination.  “You’ve been looking forward to this one most of all.”

Touched by the sentiment, Levi tucked his burning face into your shoulder mumbling ‘thank you’s and praises that you were a perfect Henry.

Satan

The Devildom archive is massive, and yet given its size it is still overfilled with books and shelves that line the walls up to his high ceilings.  Tall ladders that slide across the rooms on tracks in front of the shelves, to allow easy maneuvering are available, but not many.

“I can see it just there,” frowned Satan as he stared up at the dusty covered volume, embossed letters with faded and chipped gold foil labelling its spine.

On his tiptoes, reaching upwards, his fingers just barely above the shelf and his fingers graze the binding, only to push it further back on to the shelf and out of his reach.  He cursed.

“I’ll have to fetch a ladder,” he spat, turning his from side to side to spot on.  On the farthest ends of either side of him he could see a few unoccupied steps.  The trek just to fetch the damned things was an exercise in itself.  Why the hell was the archive this size with so few ladders between them?  Or rather, why wouldn’t they restrict ladders to certain sections?  Why did they have to make the process so difficult?

“Seems hardly worth the effort,” you commented, as you slipped your arms around his waist.

The action was sudden, but welcomed.  Having you wrapped about him was instantly soothing, and his temper dropped immediately. He sighed, letting out the tension, and his hand came to rest on yours.  “To get as perfect score on this essay, all efforts are worthwhile.  This time I will be top Lucifer’s standing for sure.”  He said with a nod.

With a light blush, he pushed his fingers between your digits in an attempt to hold your hand, but your hands instead tightened and gripped tight together, as if rejecting him.

Actually, your entire hold on him tightened.  His eyebrows furrowed curiously.

Next thing he knew, his feet were no longer on the ground.  His first instinct was to struggle as he was suddenly lifted into the air.  “What do you think you’re doing?”  He whisper-shouted, wide eyes trying to peer at your face behind him, rage rising with his embarrassment.

“I’m just helping!” You laughed, rubbing your cheek into his back in a reassuring gesture.  “Can you reach your book now?”

“Ah, right,” he muttered, his face heating to a deeper red as he hastily tore the book from the shelf and patted at your arm to let him down.  “A little warning next time,” he chastised with a small smile, his anger clearly evident in the way he punctuated his request.

You gave a quick “sorry” but your smile showed no real apology.  Well, he’ll have to wretch a real one out of you in a bout of punishment later.  He hoped you’ll be looking forward to it as much he was thinking of it.

Asmodeus

Your ball ensemble for Diavolo’s ball was magnificent, and Asmo, as your date wore its perfect match.  He could not be prouder of his efforts to make you both look stunning for your evening out.  He designed the outfits himself, weeks before, and today he’d spent all day preparing the two of you—hair, make up, nails, last minute tailoring.  It had been exhausting, but it was well worth it.

All eyes were on the two of you the moment you’d entered the room, and he couldn’t have been more pleased. Not that it was unusual for people to stare at him—but tonight, you were on his arm, and he felt a sense of pride that was new to him.

Because I have you. And they can only dream to.

It took a few drinks to loosen you up to the idea of dancing.

“Just one song,” he begged throughout the evening.

You smiled and promised him just the one, and at three drinks, he had finally could lead you to the dance floor for at least a slow one.  Having you in his arms was a delight, though you seemed so focused on your dancing that you were forgetting to have a good time yourself.

To lighten the mood, he made it a point to spin you, and then himself, rocking together with you before repeating the process.  A spin for you, a spin for him.  The two of you looked childish, almost ridiculous.  The type of dancing a 5-year-old’s interpretation of a fairytale dance. Asmo, a man of allure and the pinnacle of sexy, was happy to play goofy if it meant making you smile.

It took another drink to get you on the floor again, but this time it was song that was much more upbeat.  There was less concern in you now for your steps, a little sloppy, but full of joy, which is all Asmo wants.  He gave you a cocky grin before lifting you slightly into the air and spun you.

Your laughter was the best song all night.

Much to his surprise, you locked your hands on to his waist and lifted him in return, mimicking his spin. Giggling in the thrill.  Almost like a child, he asked for another spin and another, posing each time he was held up high for all to see until the song ended.

“Let’s see what else we can do with that strength of yours,” he panted, catching what breath he’d been losing in all his laughter.

“This one’s a bit of a slower one,” you commented.  “Spinning might be—”

“Oh, no, honey.  We’re done with dancing.”

Beelzebub

Beel’s a quiet guy but that didn’t mean he wasn’t affectionate.  He was a hugger and he different types of hugs for different occasions.

He gave short but firm for hellos.  He held a little longer for good byes.  Thank you’s were half hugs and pats on the back.  And I’m sorry’s were engulfing but gentle, never imposing.  For comfort, he was

But this hug was a new one. It wasn’t one he’d ever given you before.  And it wasn’t one his brothers had ever seen him do since he’d been down in the Devildom—not since Lilith.

He’d been gone for about five days—given some business direct from Diavolo to handle an incident on the other side of the Devildom with Lucifer in tow.  Lucifer returned early, but Beel remained for two days more.

When Beel finally lumbered through the door relieved to be home.  He was chilled from the rain pouring outside, hungrier than he’d ever felt in the past two decades, and in desperate need of some time to relax.

The first thing he heard was the patter of footsteps, running to meet his arrival.

“Beel, welcome home!” You shouted from the top of the stairs, laughing heartily as you came down to meet him quick as you could. Trailing behind you came Belphie, eager to meet him, but slowed down by his sin to reach him as fast as you did.

It was as if his exhaustion disappeared at seeing your smile, and your rush to meet him was so endearing, it warmed him—at least his face—instantly.

“Glad to be back,” he said with nod, opening his arms.

To his surprise you launched yourself into him, the momentum knocking into him.  To keep balance, he gave you a spin, chuckling at your excitement.

“I missed you!”  You shouted as he spun you about.

“I missed you too.”

He held you tight against him, and in response to his grip, you gripped him tightly back.

It’s an affectionate game of mimicry you two play often.  If you tap a beat on his hand, he’ll tap it back with an addition.  If you give him a kiss, he’ll give you two.  Back and forth until one of you gives.  It was a game generally played behind closed doors, but this was a special occasion—he missed you too much.  Now it was game of who can give a tighter hug.

And he was determined to win.

He adjusted his arms around you to hold you just a little lower—and then lifted you off the ground.  You giggled, pleased.  It was only for a moment before he set you down.  He grinned at you.

But his smile soon turned to shock when you in turn put your arms about his waist, lifting him and spinning.

Too stunned to respond, Beel lost the round.

“Never expected that out of you,” whistled an impressed Belphie, having finally descended down the stairs.

Beel could only nod, wide eyed in agreement.

You gave him a cocky grin, planting your hands on your hips and puffing your chest with pride.  Beel too beamed with pride at his partner’s strength.  He begins to invite you to workouts together, curious to see just how much you could lift.

Belphegor

Movie nights followed a very specific pattern.  It was a scramble to get the boys together, and just when you think you’ve settled in, someone remembers something they’ve forgotten:  popcorn, blankets, phones, chips, drinks, coasters, pillows.  And of course, the matter of seating arrangements was always a battle.  You had your designated seat, but the demons around you didn’t—each fought to take the seats beside you in some way shape or form.

“You had your turn last week!”  Fumed Levi, glaring daggers at his younger brother Belphie.

It did little to persuade the seventh born who seemed to instead nuzzled his face deeper into your lap, a hint of a teasing smirk his only answer.

Grumbles and protests eventually died down as Lucifer threatened each one into settling in.  Finally, they could all relax as the movie began to roll.

Lucifer fell asleep midway through.  Mammon and Levi shouted out quotes in bouts of laughter.  Satan shushed his elder brothers, and Asmo sighed and provided commentary on outfits and hair styles.  Beel ate most of the popcorn and chips, munching away happily.  Belphegor managed to last to its ending, but the minute the lights were brought back up, he went right to sleep, skipping the inevitable post-movie debates and commentaries by his brothers.

As it grew later into the evening, the boys slowly trickled out to their rooms to bed.  You however, remained a pillow to the cat-napping avatar.

“I’ll carry him up,” offered Beel, the last of the conscious.

“No, I’ve got it.” You told him with a smile, a hand slowly stroking through Belphie’s hair as he slept.  “I’m not quite tired yet.  I’ll leave him undisturbed for just a bit longer.”

Beel nodded, and returned to his own room.

You browsed your phone for awhile longer, one hand mindlessly running through Belphie’s soft locks.

When you were good and ready for bed, you slowly sidled out from below Belphie.  Carrying him was the easy part.  The only difficulty you had was trying not to disturb him as you slipped your hands beneath him to lift him.  You seemed to have succeeded, and Belphie was determined to let you believe it, amused that you were going to such lengths for him.

He’d been awake for some time, mostly from the time you started trailing your fingers through his hair. He didn’t dare move and let you know he was awake.  He feared you’d stop if he did.  So instead he laid and enjoyed your gentle petting him the way you might a beloved pet.

When you moved out from under him, he considered waking up to walk himself up, but the thought of you lifting him amused him greatly.  He assumed you couldn’t, and to have you try and fail to do so would be the perfect time for him to wake up and tease you.

Much to his surprise however, you lifted him with ease, carrying him all the way to his room. He would be keeping this in mind for the next time he decided it was too much trouble to make the trip himself—play dead and he can get a free ride.

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #headcanon #guess who's back #took me awhile to do this one #but it was a lot of fun #tryin' to come up with ways to have the boys lifted up #as well as get them some varied reactions was an interestin' challenge #i'm so sorry this took so long

[that-damn-girl]

(1) Bucky and The Bed

Completed

Bucky and The Bed Masterlist 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x (cis)fem!reader

Words: 5500+

Summery: You and Bucky are stranded in the middle of a snowy nowhere when there is an 'electronic blackout' during your mission. With no back ups or any way to contact your team, you take refuge from the worsening weather in the only cabin you find  in miles. Not to mention, with no power, Bucky's become your personal heater and there's only one bed.

Chapter type: Fluff, mutual pinning.

Chapter warning: Language, undressing (graphic), nudity(not graphic), NO smut in this chapter.

A/N: This is my submission for @sourpatchkidsandacokecan​ ‘s Merry Kismet Writing Challenge. Thanks for letting me participate! My prompt is, "There's only one bed". I took some inspiration from 'Spy Kids 2' and 'Charlie's Angeles'(2019). Hope I don't disappoint you and you enjoy it!

An unfortunate mix up of thoughts and words. A slip of tongue. It was a simple case of a slip of tongue, which created havoc in not only the building but also Bucky's life.

It was one of the few rare occasions when the entire team was around. Like a family, not by blood but by feelings and emotions. Though a few were lost to fate, some to distance, one to time, they stayed together. Available for each other, always there for each other. Loving each other, taunting each other. Helping each other, making each other stronger. Trusting each other, never to betray each other's trust.

You were one of them too, recruited when Sam was, the new Captain America, his other best friend and partner in crime. You helped Steve Rogers, the former Captain America, take down the parasite in S.H.I.E.L.D. Helped him get back his lost friend, fought the world beside him. Formed with him one of the few platonic relationships you knew you would cherish for life. Fought aliens, got dusted, and got back only to discover him gone to another century, without any chance of being recovered. A curse or a blessing, you were still to process.

Although hurt, the team was recovering. Together. New relationships were formed, old ones were mended. Some out of loneliness, some out of guilt. Some platonic, some not so much.

As the entire team was around, free of missions for a while, free of saving the world, free of helping build the lost world order, free of looking after everyone but themselves, they decided to have some fun. Drink and let loose amongst themselves. Be happy and make those around them happy. They decided on the forever classic, alcohol induced truth and dare.

They were a group of superheroes, some of them having been traveled to different planets even. It was safe to say they were daring. Very daring. So much so that hardly anyone chose 'truth', and the ones that did were bullied into taking 'dare'. More than half the group was composed of spies, assassins, and a mind reader. They knew more than half the truths anyway.

As the bottle spun, your age-old best friend's turn came. You dared Sam to twerk. A collection of oohs and aahs rose. Everyone wanted to know what the new America's Ass looked like in action.

"Aw, man! Don't you got something else?" He protested.

"Don't be a chicken, Sammy."

"Chicken, your ass." That was all the prompting he needed. He confidently walked to the center of the room, supported himself on his knees, and moved his hips in the sinful motion, jutting his ass out with some extra effort every time he went low. Oh, he twerked well, really well.

"Hey sweetcheeks, c'mon join in." and that was all the invitation you needed. None but he knew the true and raw magic in your hips. 

You went just as confidently and started twerking. You were the best of the best in this regard. The cheering you both received with your asses wiggling in the air was much more raunchier. You enjoyed the attention.

Bucky enjoyed the sight.

Bucky knew that things had become wild in the twenty-first century, but discovering that the obscene movements you and Sam did with your butts was accepted, enjoyed and encouraged openly was another shocking piece of information he had received. Not that he was complaining. If he had thought Sam did well, you were a whole another level of fineness in his eyes.

Enamoured as he was already with you, his eyes couldn't leave the enrapturing movement of your divine hips. He didn't understand how one could move their hips in such a flawless and mesmerizing manner.

He had meant to say, 'How the fuck do you do that?'. Somehow, he remembered that people today used 'do' as another term for 'fuck'. Somehow, the line re-entered his brain as, 'How the fuck do you fuck that?'. Most of his attention was on your hips. He was mostly unconscious of his thoughts at the moment. The end result?

"How do you fuck that?"

A pin drop silence followed. All eyes, wide and surprised, turned to Bucky. You and Sam stopped your ministrations and turned to him too. Bucky didn't understand why he became the center of attention all of a sudden. Until he did.

Oh shit.

A couple of days later, you and Bucky were sent on a last minute mission together. A group of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents needed some more help. Well, actually, a lot of help. Fierce and flawless, you and Bucky were equivalent to a mini-army together. Fury sent the pair of you in.

With your much needed help, the mission was a success despite the initial slim chances. The agents returned to the headquarters in their respective modes of transportation. Ever the diligent, you and Bucky decided to do a final sweep of the area before abandoning the site.

You were glad you did, because you both found a man not much later, seemingly your rival and half dead, tapping right and left furiously on a small white octagonal box. With a gun raised, both of you stalked towards him soundlessly. Before you could do anything as you approached him, with a single final push of his thumb, an almost invisible forceful wave rolled out of the white box, throwing you off your feet and pushing Bucky significantly back.

You thought you had passed out for a second there. You felt dazed and your eardrums stung, the silence around you deafening. You looked around, tried to blink the haziness out of your eyes but couldn't. Your limbs felt heavy. It was a difficult work to will your body to  switch to an upright position. When you did, you saw Bucky at his knees, examining the unconscious man. Feeling nauseous and dizzy, you slowly made your way to him.

"Dead," Bucky said, sighing in disappointment. You looked around yourself. The force blast hadn't really disturbed anything other than yourselves in your sight. You needed to know why the man had his last breaths spent on operating that box instead of trying to run away for his life. Why had it caused what it did? What were the effects?

Feeling an impending doom, you asked, "What was it?" 

Bucky shrugged. He turned towards the white octagonal box which laid half split, a few electric sparks coming out of it. "What is that?"

"Never seen anything like it before." You said, pressuring your still fazed brain to recognize it. Deciding to take it in for S.H.I.E.L.D. to look into and identify what it was, you held the split pieces in your hands and after sweeping the area one more time, made your way back to the quinjet.

You couldn't get the ramp at the hind side to set down. Usually, your voice activation was enough, but FRIDAY did not respond no matter how much you spoke. You tried to manually open it through the control panel embedded in the suit of your forearm but found out that it had shut down. You asked Bucky to do it, whose own control panel was in a similar situation. You tried to contact the headquarters with your comms. The comms were rendered useless too. "That's weird."

After you couldn't even open the doors by the well-hidden mini control panel outside of the quinjet, you panicked. Never had this happened before, neither were you ever prepared for a situation like this.

Any and every electronic item in your reach didn't work. Had one or few of your wireless gadgets malfunctioned, you would have understood the force blast had caused it. But this? It was total abandonment by the technology you and your life heavily relied on. And none of it worked. You failed to understand how it had happened. What would you call it? An 'electronic blackout'?

Oh shitty shit.

Accepting that nothing would come out of your futile attempts, you and Bucky decided to look for shelter in the crisp winter air and over the two feet thick snow covered grounds. Whichever direction you craned your neck in, you'd only see towers of dark bottle green leaves atop white grounds, a gloomy atmosphere all around with the sun resting behind the thick clouds.

You tried to remember if there were any safe houses where you two were stranded. Nothing came to your mind. Feeling defeated and lost, you and Bucky kept walking in the direction he thought you could find civilization and help.

In time, the cold was getting to you. Bucky was a super soldier, but you were only a human. The suits you wore were made of a material meant to keep you warm despite being not much thick. However, they weren't made for the extreme conditions you were currently in. Your ears were exposed to the much chilly winds which kept a constant inflow of tremors down your spine, and your gloves were fingerless. You didn't realize it then that your boots had loosened, possibly due to the same force wave which had caused this blackout, and melted snow slipped down to your feet, worsening your state. You were screwed.

Nonetheless, you kept walking with arms wrapped around yourself, shivering continuously. Though the serum made Bucky much resistant to the cold than you, he wasn't immune to it. He didn't shiver, but his body felt the bite of the cold.

He noticed your shivering. He noticed you slowing down. You were taking much smaller steps, just following him, the unease from the cold not permitting you to think at all. He reached behind and pulled you to his side, wrapping his flesh arm around you and rubbing the parts of your arm accessible to him.

After the slip up a couple of days ago, the team had teased both him and you endlessly. They were brutal. He had apologized to you several times after that and explained what he had originally wanted to say. Honestly, you were heavily disappointed he didn't really mean it. It was just a slip up and nothing more, no matter how much you wished it were.

Unknown to you, Bucky did like you, more than a friend, more than a confidante, but didn't want to jeopardize your friendship. After losing Steve, he valued his close friendships even more. So he stuck to being friends, just friends.

As his arm comforted you, you leaned into him, the tempting warmth of his body inviting you. You only nodded when he said, "Hopefully, we'll find something here. It's gonna be okay." Your shoulder rested on his chest as you both walked along silently. You trusted him, so you followed his lead.

You walked for hours it seemed until he heard a frail dejected whisper, "Hey, Bucky," his gaze swept over, concerned. Your eyes were closed, body numb. He stopped walking and turned to you, holding your face in his flesh arm only.

"Hey, Y/N! Y/N, look at me. You're strong. We're gonna be ok, hmm?  Tell me what's wrong, sweety." Your eyes were still closed, but you were consciousness. You felt tired, really tired. He hadn't realized that for the last few minutes, Bucky was only dragging your semi conscious body with him.

You somehow willed your eye lids to open. Squinting at the inflow of light, you took him in. He looked scared, very scared.

"I don't think I can walk anymore, Bucky. Tired, so tired." The cold had gotten to you. Hours of walking against the wants of nature had gotten to you , especially after the dizziness you felt from the force wave which had thrown you off your feet. You were extremely exhausted.

"It's ok, we're gonna be okay!" He repeated the same lines over and over again, rubbing your face and arms in hopes to induce some warmth in your body . "We're gonna find a warm place, Y/N. We just need some more time."

Bucky looked around frantically, hoping to find a good enough spot for you, but all he saw was snow for miles and miles ahead in every direction. He stirred you to a nearby tree and leaned you against it.

"Y/N, Y/N look at me." he caressed your cheek, "I'm gonna run ahead and find us a place real quick, okay? You need to help me. Stay here for me, alright? Do not move. Do not fall asleep. We're gonna get you to a warm place, and there you can rest all you want."

Leaving you against the tree, trusting you to stand upright and not fall into the snow, he went out in search of a hospitable place. Bucky swore he had never run as fast as he did that day. He could feel his heart pounding in his ears. The fear of something happening to you, of losing yet another friend, it did something to him. He thanked God for making him a super soldier, so that he could run as fast as he did. But then thinking of you, he damned God for not making you one, or so your life wouldn't have been in danger from such extreme cold.

After speeding through the thick layer of snow for miles, he found a cabin in a small clearing in the middle of nowhere, covered in snow all around. It definitely looked inhabitable. He climbed up the steps and was about to break the lock of the main door with his metal door but thought better of it. He looked under the door mat and above the door panel and found a spare key which opened the door. Idiots, he thought, but realised those idiots were the reason he had found shelter to keep you safe. Thanking his luck, something which he rarely did, he quickly ran back to fetch you.

Your limbs felt tied down to weights, your body felt numb and unresponsive. Your head ached mercilessly, and you shivered uncontrollably. Yet you leaned against the tree, fighting against yourself to stay upright. You didn't know if your were feeling sleepy from exhaustion or were slipping into unconsciousness from the cold. Either way, you tried not to close your eyes for long intervals.

Bucky found you in a much worse state than he had left you in. When he took a hold of your shoulders to drag you again, you gave out a soundless whine, only puffs of translucent white coming out of your mouth.

"Walk no more Bucky, no more." You couldn't walk anymore and you couldn't form a proper line either . Fearing your condition, Bucky panicked even more.

He put your hands securely around his neck, "Hold on tight, princess, okay? I found us a place. A warm place. Don't you worry , princess." He was more convincing himself than telling you.

You wordlessly nodded at him. He picked you up in his strong arms bridal style and jogged towards his destination, careful not to disrupt you much. Eyes closed again, your head lolled on his chest. You nuzzled closer to him, needing more of his warmth.

He looked down at you, eyes closed and brows furrowed, trying to keep the vicious cold out. You clutched onto him like your life depended on it. Well, it actually did.

"Just a few more moments, Y/N. Don't close your eyes, doll. C'mon, please don't." He knew he whined like a baby, but didn't care. "I need you to stay awake for me."

You wanted nothing more than to be in his arms and sleep forever, but the desperate tone in his voice compelled you to open your eyes.

"Not sleeping, Buck. I'm awake." you assured him in a faint whisper.

"That's like my girl, Y/N." He leaned down and gently kissed your forehead. It was just a small peck, but it warmed you up more that his body did. Moreover, he had called you his girl. Oh, if only he knew how much you wanted to be his girl. It caused your heart rate to increase, swarming your insides a little with butterflies.

You knew you needed to keep your eyes open and not fall into the grasp of unconsciousness. You needed a distraction from the cold biting at your exposed skin. As far as you could see, you only had the never ending white snow, dull cloudy sky and Bucky's beautiful face in front of you. The latter was something you could gladly focus at endlessly. So you did.

You took in every feature of his charming face, how his dark hair contrasted his now pale skin, how the endless white around him brought out the majestic blue in his eyes, how his lips looked deliciously pink surrounded by his scruff, how much he looked like an angel - your saviour, your guardian.

Bucky sensed you staring at him and gently smiled at you. "Almost there, doll." Yeah, you could be his doll forever.

As soon as he reached the abandoned house, he carried you through the already unlocked main door and set you down on the worn out couch. It was cold, and all the body heat which you had acquired from Bucky went into the comfortable but cold surface of the couch. However, you couldn't do much except lay down and shiver, your mind blocking out all of your senses. 

None of the electronics seemed to work, so finding the radiator was a lost cause. Bucky glanced at the fireplace. Fortunately, there were enough logs to last a day if he used them smartly. He immediately put some logs inside the brick structure and fired them up. He only allowed himself to relish in the heat after he put aside the center table and pushed the couch which you sat upon closer to the source of blissful heat .

You looked nearly unconscious, wanting nothing than to give in to the seduction of sleep. Sighing, he moved towards you. Taking your hands in his, he said, "Doll, I told you I'd bring you to a warm place, didn't I?" He slowly, affectionately stroked your hair. "I'm gonna get you some food and warm clothes. Be right back before you know it." He brought your hands to his lips and kissed each once with considerable force. You moved your head in the slightest, which he could only assume was a nod.

You both were lucky you found a place to spend the night in. Bucky didn't know the exact time, but sensed it would be dark soon, and one look at the window confirmed his suspicions. Now all he had to do was keep you and him sound and safe until you figured out what to do about the situation and how to get back.

He looked around the house for its resources. The house looked old. The kitchen cabinets were somewhat adequately filled for a short stay and there was a separate gas cylinder and stove. Sure some of the items in the there were expired and the cylinder felt more than half empty when he lifted it, but he could make do with them. He had to.

The kitchen was directly behind the living room, and there were only one other room in the house. A bedroom with an attached bathroom. He quickly rummaged through the closets he saw and pulled out the only two single blankets and some warm clothes he could find.

He carried them to your considerably less shivering form. He knelt down and lifted your legs to open your boots. Finding your feet totally soaked, he cursed and dried them with a towel he had found. A new wave of warmth spread through you as you watched him fret over you.

He needed to get you out of the half soaked jumpsuit you wore. His own was soaked too, but you were more important at the moment.

He took your hands in his once again, "Y/N, princess, you need to get out of this wet suit." He helped your reluctant form into a sitting position and placed a few of the warm clothes in your lap.

"I'll be in the other room while you change, alright?" He turned to leave but you caught his wrist in your hand in a vice grip. He looked down at it and then your face, your eyes fluttering in and out of consciousness.

"Can you do it for me, Bucky?" Your soft voice asked him. You were too spent at the moment to remove a wet, sticky and skin tight suit from your body. Neither did you have the energy nor the patience. Lethargy had already nestled itself in you.

You didn't like it at all. Not the part where your brain registered that Bucky would touch you in a way he hadn't ever before. You hated the part where you so helpless. You were a grown ass woman, not needing anyone's help in your self-made life. However, as the adrenaline had rushed out of your body long ago, you couldn't care moving anymore after resting your limbs. Besides, it was Bucky you had asked help from. Not some arrogant prick, but your sweet Bucky.

He looked taken aback by your request, but gulping, he gently asked you, "Are you sure, Y/N?"

You took a moment to deeply look into his eyes before answering, "Yes Bucky, I trust you." His heart swelled.

Trust. What a simple thing it was. Could easily be broken by the ones you had known and trusted for longest in the blink of an eye, but took years upon years to form and strengthen. He knew not many people trusted him, the Winter Soldier inside him, which had become just as much of a part of him as his metal arm. But you did, and he reveled in it, his heart beating joyously.

He nodded and smiled at you once before his hands reached your zipper at the front of your jumpsuit. He pulled it down slowly and carefully. As soon as he saw the hint of your cleavage and the starting bulge of your breasts, he cast his eyes behind you after a second of taking it in, no matter how much he wanted to divulge in the sight of you, but kept pulling the zipper down until it reached its end. He was not going to take your advantage in anyway. He'd only take you in with your permission when you were as conscious as the day and not in the half unresponsive state you seemed to be in.

He pulled you up and stared to slide the fabric, which seemed to stick to your skin, down your shoulders. You rolled your shoulders back to help him. Warmth seeped in wherever he touched you, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin not only due to the cold but also for another reason entirely. He moved down and dragged your skinny jumpsuit off your legs.

You wore a pair of panties and sports bra beneath the suit, without any clasps. You needed to remove any and all the wet clothes off of you. Bucky didn't know what to do next. You made the decision for him.

You grasped his head and forced his eyes on yourself, "It's okay Bucky. I trust you."

He nodded again, heart thrumming loudly as he took the sides of your bra in his hands, careful not to touch your breasts, and lifted it up and over your head, all the while looking at your eyes which fought to stay open. He would never ever take advantage of you, no matter how easy it would be. The initial resistance which he felt in the upliftment of your bra due to the swell of your breasts made him blush, but he manged to move pass it. He had undressed many dames during his time, but you were the first after being free from HYDRA.

You only had enough energy to push your panties down and let gravity do the work. You lightly kicked them and your suit away after they pooled at your feet. Bucky tried very hard not to think about the beauty in front of him in all her glory. Many thoughts invaded his mind, most of them sinful ones. His inner demons clawed at his soul to get just a look, but god forbid he ever acted on them. You trusted him, he wasn't going to let that trust go. He immediately grabbed a shirt and a pair of thick sweats from the couch behind you and made you wear them, eyes never once straying from yours.

After he covered you up in more layers, he made you sit down wrapped up in a thick layer of the only two blankets. He freed your hair from your ponytail, ruffling it a little for you. He quickly changed in the only other room and made a soup with the ingredients he could find. It tasted shit, but all your cared about was the heat it provided and the appetite it fulfilled.

He spoon fed you as you sat on the couch, wrapped up in the blankets like a cocoon, hands holding them tight around you. He would blow off the excess heat for you before bringing them to your lips, and repeated it patiently, affectionately. You appreciated it very much.

After having some for himself, he slouched down on the couch beside you, finally relaxing. You were more aware of your senses now, having recovered from the cold and exhaustion you had felt earlier with some food inside you now. However, your headache still persisted. You felt sleepy still, but not to the degree you thought you would collapse like before.

You looked at Bucky, who was under a few warm cloths himself but without a blanket, eyes closed and head rested on top of the backrest. You realised it was only one of the few times you had seen him truly relax. He looked really peaceful. Calm and serene, almost like a harmless baby. And oh so handsome.

Without any second thoughts, you shifted closer to him, snuggling into him. You repositioned the blankets so that it engulfed you both.

"You need it more than I do, doll." He started to untangle himself but you held him close, "Just relax and come here, Bucky."

Still stimulated from earlier, Bucky desperately tried not to think of the unintentional pun you used, or he'd soon have a situation going on downwards.

You knees were tucked under your chin as your entire body leaned on Bucky, your head and one of your palms resting on his chest, drawing random patterns. His flesh arm came up and pulled you further into his side as it circled around your shoulder and rubbed your upper arm. The motion so soothing and the warmth from not only the fireplace but also Bucky so alluring, you thought you'd enter the land of gleeful dreams right there.

You felt wholesome in that moment. Maybe it was because of the close proximity only, maybe something more. Whatever it was, you wanted to enjoy it thoroughly.

Nostalgia had hit Bucky when he was taking care of you. An unqualified nurse? Bucky was certified for that, courtesy to his scrawny blonde friend back in the day. He took care of you as he had for his friend. A sense of responsibility, worry, genuine concern, all had been there, but there was something more too. Something he couldn't pinpoint. He had felt something tugging at his heart. He didn't know what, but it did. It made him nervous and excited all at once, but he didn't know what to make of it as the two of you sat in silence for long, drowned in your own thoughts.

Soon it was dark outside, the fireplace the only source of light. The atmosphere chilled even further. As Bucky came back to his place after adding more firewood, you immediately wrapped your arms around him, not liking the brief inflow of cool air when he had moved. You buried your head deep into his chest as much as you could from your position. He laughed. 

"Hey, Bucky," he hummed in response. You leaned away a bit to look straight into his blue grey eyes.

"Thank you for everything." You wanted to say so much more, but you felt overwhelmed.

Cupping your cheeks, he turned towards you, "No doll, you don't need to thank me for that. I'll always take care of ya, you know that right?"

You covered his palms and said, "No Bucky, you don't understand. I was thinking, wondering what would've happened if you weren't there. If I were alone..." The feminist in you didn't want to admit it, but you knew that was the truth at the moment.

"I couldn't even walk throughout. You carried me here, took care of me, changed me, fed me. You saved me today, Bucky. You saved me. If not for you..." Tears welled up in your eyes as you opened your mouth but nothing came out of it.

"Shh, shh, no honey," He hugged you tightly, rubbing your back, "You're safe, you're fine."

You sobbed into his neck, "God, I feel so pathetic, Bucky. You had to take care of me like a baby. I am a grown woman, an Avenger, for heaven's sake. Have been for years. I should've been stronger than that. And now I'm crying like a child." Somehow, the realization made you cry harder.

You didn't know why it was happening, why you were crying so hard. You've had near death experiences countless times before. Hell, you were even dusted, dead in a way, and brought back. This wasn't much life threatening. You were safe. You were alive. Yet you continued grieving what could've happened but didn't.

"Hey, hey, doll," with one hand under your knees, Bucky took placed your sniffing form on his lap sideways. You head was still in the crook of his neck and his arms embraced you, enveloping you, keeping you away from any fears you had, any regrets you had. He rocked you fondly, his cheek on your head.

"It was the blackout Y/N, it wasn't you." He comforted you, "Y/N, this wasn't our mission. Your mission was to back up our agents and you did, you did it perfectly doll. This...this is something none of us know about. It's well below freezing temperature outside. You can't win against the nature, doll."

He rocked you and whispered soothing words until you had calmed down. You weren't sure why you did that. Bucky and you had always been close, just like you and Sam. You confided in each other, supported and comforted each other. If you ever did show your vulnerable side, it was only in front of them. But it hardly ever came down to this.

"Sorry Bucky, you had to see that," you pulled back a little to look at him. He wiped your tear stained cheeks with his thumb. His nonjudgmental eyes looked at you, an understanding smile on his face.

"Doll, it's okay. You've let it all out, it's good. You feeling alright now?" Although you still felt a little embarrassed by it, you mumbled out a small, "Yeah."

"Fuck the snow for snow for making you cry." You replied, "How do you fuck that?" You both laughed a little.

Lost in your eyes, his hand moved from caressing your cheeks to caressing your tender neck. You looked up at him but were unable to focus on any single feature of his. His eyes, so soft; his smile, so pure; his lips, so juicy.

You tucked a few strands of his hair behind his ear, your palm on his cheek. Bucky felt his heart dance around his chest. You leaned in to kiss his cheek, but he unknowingly moved his head following the descent of your eyes and you pecked the corner of his lips.

Unsure of what to do about it, you dropped your head in the crook of his neck, as if it were normal for friends to go around kissing the corner of each others mouth. It wasn't. But you thought that if Bucky had a problem, he'd say something. He didn't.

Bucky didn't know if he was more remorseful or thankful for not fully turning his face and having your soft, luscious lips right on his.

It was then when all his nicknames started coming to you. Sure, he'd use them, but it was rare. That day you had heard more nicknames from him than you had in the entirety of your friendship. Doll, princess, sweetheart, honey... Not having heard those from this man before, in his sweet yet hard voice before. It did things to you, made your heart pound faster, your core heat up.

It was also then that you noticed one thing other than his strong and broad thighs beneath you. You leaning into him, him feeling your breasts pressed to the side of his chest, him taking in your sweet scent, it woke his nervous system. Moreover, in rocking you, Bucky had also rocked the nerves down there, the stimulus encouraging an inflow of blood, making not only his penis hard but also harder to hide it from you.

He prayed to heaven's that you didn't notice. You did, but you tried to make no indication that you did. However, he understood from the way you stiffened atop him that you did notice it. He was convinced that you'd hate him now.

Feeling immensely embarrassed, he unceremoniously stood up and dropped you on the couch.

"Uh, I'll just, uh, I'll just set up the fireplace in the bedroom. It's been a long day." He wiped his sweaty palms on his bottoms and bolted out of the living room.

You were low-key in shock. You desperately hoped you made him hard, but your rational side told you it was just because of the physical contact. He'd be in the same situation even if it were somebody else. Your presence didn't really matter to him. The thought made you physically hurt.

As Bucky set up the fireplace in the bedroom, it then struck to his mind. There was only one bedroom, which meant there was only one bed. He glanced at the queen sized bed  bed behind him and then at his raging boner. Somewhere in the back of his head, he could hear Sam roaring with laughter at his predicament. 

He knew it was going to be a long, long night.

The divider is made by @writeyourmindaway​

Chapter 2

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A/N: Thanks for reading! There is going to be lots of soft!bucky cuddling and pinning in the upcoming chapters, I don't live in a place where it snows and I don't really know how people hold up or how the houses actually are in such places. Sorry for the inaccuracies you find. Good or bad, your feedback is always welcome!

#idmkwc #that damn girl writes #bucky x reader #bucky barns x reader #soft!bucky x reader #soft!bucky barns x reader #bucky barns x reader fluff #bucky x reader fluff #bucky fanfiction #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barns fanfic #bucky barns series #bucky barns x reader series #bucky x reader series #bucky x you #bucky barns x you #bucky barns x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky and the bed series #protective bucky x reader #protective!bucky x reader #protective bucky barns x reader #protective!bucky barns x reader

[erixyin]

MLQC Boys as somethings I’ve said to my boyfriend:

Gavin:

“If i commit murder would you rat me out or join me and be my partner in crime?” “... yes”

*falls off the bed* “this is ILLEGAL!”

*gets stuck in a video game* “i dont need help!” *5 minutes later* “i need help!”

“I love you but could you not” [in reference to him changing while im trying to write an essay]

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN CRIMINOLOGY ISNT THE STUDY OF HOW TO BE A CRIMINAL”

*everytime he starts the car* “eheheh vroom vroom”

“SIR I AM CALLING THE POLICE” “you’re the one under arrest”

“What do you mean i cant have chicken nugs for tea again?”

*him walking in and seeing me wearing his hoodie. Looks away and blushes*

“Dry my hair wind!” “The wind accepts his fate”

“Gimme hugs gimme hugs gimme hugs *hugs* yes sweaty hugs”

“Do you think I’d be a good police officer?” “No”

“Im going to the shops!” “You’re wearing just my hoodie and tshirt” “I’m still going to the shops!”

“So then i realised i couldnt go to the GP- OMG DOGGY DOGGY DOGGY DOGGY WHAT A GOOD BOI” [the doggo in question is across the very busy road and is wearing a coat <3]

*gives me head pats* “am cute”

“We could illegally watch the movie...?” “YOU WOULDN’T STEAL A CAR”

Kiro:

*after a lengthy discussion about how i shouldn’t buy it” “ok but hear me out...it has ears”

“I bought 6 packets of laces” “why?” “Because I’ll eat 3 packets by myself”

*going to mcdonalds* “NUGS NUGS NUGS NUGS NUGS NUGS NUGS”

*both of us singing pitch perfect word for word*

🎶 “why can i not spell this word, spell this word, pull this word. Why can i not spell this word FOR AN ENTIRE GODDAMN HOUR” 🎵

“My abs are underneath a layer of squish for warmth through winter” “same!”

“Pay attention to me ;-;” “but but but” “put the doggo down”

“Am burrito” *is a burrtoed into my blanket*

*makes cat hiss noies when trying to steal my nugs* “a violent sushi roll”

*after trying to remember my password for Moshi monsters* “I DID IT IM A HACKER”

*bf does a puzzle that ive been stuck on for 20 minutes* “JESUS CHRIST ITS JASON BOURNE”

*me booping his arms and chest* “squishy and muscle. Squishy and muscle. Squishy and muscle...”

*ordering a takeaway* “LORD AM ABOUT TO BE CHONCCY”

Victor:

“Work is difficult and life is hard” “ill give you a kiss if you finish a paragraph?” “WAIT TEN MINUTES”

“I need moral support for this essay” “it’s 3am?” “As i said i need moral support”

“But can i-“ “no”

“Hear me out you’re cute” “no”

*dying of laughter after putting cat ears on him* “childish”

“There should be a cereal called breaking fast with blue marshmallows in it and sponsored by breaking bad” “... that’s not terrible”

“Why am i a gullible idiot?!” *after 4 games of chess and losing 4 times* “but you’re my cute, gullible idiot”

“Um can i have a coffee ple-“ “no” “but why?” *intense stare* “I’ll have a hot chocolate”

*walking in wearing a suit* “YOU GOT A FINE ASS BOI” *his friend looking at him. Him wanting to bury his head into the void*

*singing off key and drunk* “I’M TOO HOT!” :D :D :D :D “.... hot damn”

*plays chopsticks on the keyboard* “do you wanna be in my band?”

“Law and order again?!” “IT’S EITHER LAW AND ORDER OR SAY YES TO THE DRESS WHAT DO YOU WANT”

“Disney film night!” *deflated sigh*

*in front of his frens in a alt store* “which collar should i get?” *bats eyes innocently*

*wakes me up at 8am* “an UNGODLY time” “no”

Lucien:

*listening to him explain a fish to me* “hehehe puffer fishy be so chonccy”

“I found you this rock!” “Excellent”

*wearing his jacket* “NOODLE ARMS ATTACK” “aaaa so scary”

*puts his hand on my thigh* “NOT IN PUBLIC” “but why?”

“This is my plant Dave the cactus, and this is my plant medusa the snek plant, and this is my plant sam the mini cactus and this is my plant...” *look of adoration*

*drags him away from his laptop to go to bed*

*after talking about trust issues because of my ex* *him: gets up* “where are you going?” “To commit murder”

*plays with his hair and he purrs*

*hot water bottle on tummy* “i am an egg in pain” “the cutest egg tho”

“DOGGY” “thats a fox dear” “SNEAKY DOGGY”

*having a an in-depth discussion on evolution* *5minutes later* “do you think the T. rex went extinct because he couldnt applaud his friends and died out of sadness?”

*i’ve killed him. He’s dead” “ill get the body bag” “my poor goldfish- WHAT”

*sits next to him wearing a hoodie and thigh highs* “you’re distracting me” “I’m just breathing” “yes”

*going to dance clubs always ends up with me against a wall*

*is wearing a cute bodycon dress with mesh panels* “we’re gonna be home early”

*what do you think of my new fishnets? *runs finger down them* “asmr all the time”

*me feeling insecure* “i think I’ve gained weight” “great then my plan i working! You will be healthy!”

Shaw:

*accidentally walks out of a shop holding a key ring i havent bought* “im a criminal [crying]” “a terrible one too”

*is 3months younger than me* “you’re so old” “you’re the one who looks 5 years older than you are” “take that back!”

“You can’t wear your leather jacket to a formal event” “fucking watch me”

*kisses and dancing in the rain*

“Idiot” *wtaches me splash in all the puddles like a child*

*watches me cry over a tiny snail i found* “i love this you”

“Omg look at this SNALLLL!” “Snail?” “SNALLLLL”

“I have so much debt” “its because all of the McNugs you buy”

“Help me dye my hair?” “Certainly that will be £300” “aaaaa”

“You’re so mean!” “I have to be otherwise you’ll never learn” *talking about watching another episode of game of thrones*

*has to look away for some game of thrones scenes* “a fragile child” “im older than you”

“Can i paint your nails?” “Yeah my masculinity ain’t fragile” “can i paint them holo?” “No”

*cuddling* “you smell” “do you want sex or not” “you smell lovely”

#mlqc gavin #mlqc #mlqc event #mlqc kiro #mlqc victor #mlqc lucien #mlqc mc #mlqc spoilers #mlqc dates #mlqc react #mlqc helios #mlqc ares #mlqc shaw #mlqc li zeyan #mlqc fanfic #mlqc bai qi #mlqc xu mo #mlqc haku #mlqc zhou qiluo